


The Malfoy Mistress

by GalvanicGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Asexual Character, Asexual Narcissa Malfoy, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, F/M, Family Magic, Food Sex, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Nipple Play, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Ritual Sex, Rituals, Sex Toys Under Clothing, ethical non-monogamy, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalvanicGirl/pseuds/GalvanicGirl
Summary: Hermione has been desperately seeking a way to restore her parents’ memories. She has a lead that lands her in the last place she ever wanted to return to, Malfoy Manor.The Malfoys have magic that may be able to help, there’s just one catch, it’s family magic and Hermione is definitely not family.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 106
Kudos: 556





	1. The Proposition

Hermione stood at the front doors of a place she’d promised herself she’d never have to see again and tried to discreetly wipe her damp palms on her robes before raising her fist to knock. The door swung smoothly open to reveal a house elf in a neat pillow case, if the creature was surprised to see a Muggleborn at the door, let alone one that had been tortured in Malfoy Manor, she hid it well. 

“I’m here to see Lord Malfoy,” stated Hermione as she stepped into a white marble and gilt foyer at the elf’s motion. 

“Miss will wait here,” said the little elf who popped away before Hermione could ask any questions. 

Hermione had just stepped over to check her appearance in a floor to ceiling mirror and wipe at a smudge of eyeliner below her left eye when the elf returned and commanded Hermione , “Miss is to follow Mipsy to the study.” Mipsy promptly started off into the house with Hermione trailing bemusedly behind. 

The house they walked through seemed very different from the dark oppressive place she’d been held captive in. What was once all dark mahogany and green velvets had transformed into oak parquet and pale walls, reminiscent of Versailles, it made the manor feel less oppressive, though that could be attributed to not being tied up this time. 

Finally they paused in front of a set of white scrolled doors that were visually indistinguishable from any of the doors they passed along the way. The doors swung open with a wave of Mipsy’s hand to reveal an airy room lined with bookshelves, a fire merrily burning in a marble fronted fireplace and a large desk a the far end backed by French doors, beyond which Hermione could see splashes of color through the diaphanous drapes. Most arresting of all was the man who lounged behind the desk. If the manor whispered of French nobility the man himself nearly shouted it. His robes were made of rich fabrics with the subtle sparkle of gems at his wrists and neck. His hair was a straight white blond curtain that slid across his shoulders as he tilted his head and quirked a pale eyebrow at her.

With that Hermione realized she’d been caught staring. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander, this show of privilege brought home that she was not dealing with Lucius Malfoy, former death eater but Lord Malfoy, a peer of the realm and regardless of her war heroine status, in this matter, in this house, she was a supplicant. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Malfoy,” Hermione parroted back while firmly telling her legs that twitched like they wanted to curtsy to cease and desist. 

Lord Malfoy gestured towards a chair in front of his desk and said, “please sit, Miss Granger.” Dismissing Mipsy with a flick of his fingers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he inquired. 

“Well, I’m not sure if you heard,” Hermione haltingly began, “but during the war I was forced to obliviate my parents to protect them from attack. At the time I didn’t know of any way to reverse the obliviation, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make if it would save their lives. Now that the war is over I’ve started researching to see if there’s any hope at all. I found reference in the Black library to a similar situation, a similar memory problem, I should say, being reversed by the Malfoy magic. Unfortunately, the journal I read didn’t go into much detail…”

Lucius leaned back in his chair, his eyes going unfocused as he reflected on her problem and what he knew of his family’s magic. After a moment he turned considering eyes on Hermione, weighing all he had learned about the girl, all he could see, and what he could guess before starting to speak. “The Malfoy family magic that has proven effective for similar maladies, however there is a significant obstacle that would prevent me from using it on your parents. Please realize I do not say this out of prejudice,” he began, politely ignoring her quiet snort of disbelief, “but family magic simply cannot work on muggles without a familial link between the magic and said muggles to establish an initial pathway.”

At his words Hermione slumped back into her chair, tears welling in her eyes.

He then held up a forestalling hand and added, “now that is not to say that there is no hope. As you are the only witch or wizard with a familial link to your parents you must be the one to work the Malfoy magic on them.”

Hermione straightened her spine and absently brushed at her eyes with her fingers, “but I thought family magic couldn’t be practiced by anyone outside of the family?“

A smirk grew slowly on his face, “you are quite right, Miss Granger.”

* * *

“And how would you propose we accomplish that?!” If Hermione stumbled over the word “propose” Lucius was gentleman enough to react with only a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“There are three ways to bring a new member into the family, the first and most common is, of course, marriage. However, I’m assuming you would prefer something a great deal less permanent.”

Hermione nodded adamantly before she blushingly realized how rude that must seem. “Err, It’s just,” she hesitated, “that I didn’t think the Wizarding world practiced bigamy and I I don’t think Draco and I would suit.”

“That and his fiancée Astoria might have something to say about it,” he commented as he tucked away the implied preference of himself over Draco. 

“The second method is a blood adoption,” he continued. “However, as blood adoptions break all prior family bonds…”

“It would rather defeat the purpose,” she agreed. 

“This leaves us with the third and final option.” Lucius paused long enough for Hermione to start being concerned before he finally said simply, “maîtresse magique.”

“Maîtresse magique…” Hermione repeated before trying to translate the phrase aloud. “Magique is of course magic, but ‘Maitresse’” she shook her head, “my primary school French is failing me, it sounds like ‘mistress, but that can’t be…” Hermione’s voice faded away as she saw confirmation on Lucius’s face. Her lost volume returned all at once as she shrieked, “MAGICAL MISTRESS!?”

“It loses something in the translation, certainly,” he murmured sardonically.

Lucius continued his explanation, lest there be any more histrionics, ”there are three recognized levels of mistress in magical society, the first is maîtresse physique, similar to the role of mistress in the muggle world, perhaps 200 years ago, the witch shares her body as well as vowing loyalty in word and deed to her protector and in our world, the family. In return she receives physical protection and the provision of physical comforts and material goods.”

“The next level is the maîtresse magique, which is required to establish a familial bond recognized by the family magic. The provisions of the first level are met, in addition to a magical exchange that enriches both parties. The final level is a further integration into the family, but that will not be necessary for our purposes.”

“Before you ask, the details of these agreements are unique to the parties involved and the traditions and tenor of the family magic. This is a private matter not discussed with outsiders; I will tell you nothing more until we have confirmed that you would compliment me, as well as the Malfoy family magic.”

Hermione rolled her lips inward and pressed them together with her teeth to prevent a torrent of questions from rolling out.

With amusement dancing in his eyes, as if aware of how much the silence cost her, Lucius leaned forward, hands clasped on his desk and asked, “do you agree to this test? It is intimate but there is little sexual contact.” 

At her nod he pushed his chair back from his desk and rose fluidly and with a come hither gesture commanded, “come, let us see if we might suit.”

Hermione moved across the room, placing her hand in his and allowed him to tug her down into his lap. She sat stiffly, her back against his chest as his hands rested on her waist but some of the tension left her when his hands didn’t begin to wander. “That’s it,” he soothed as he pulled her more firmly into his body, “lean back into me, good. Now, take deep breaths and focus in on your magic, that place inside of you that you tap whenever you perform a spell, follow the path back to the origin. Where is it centered for you? Do you feel it here...or here...or here?” He queried as his right palm pressed and his magic brushed in turn against her forehead, sternum, and finally her pelvis, his fingertips just north of her mons. 

Hermione felt surrounded by him, his scent of sandalwood and cedar, his firm touch, and the warm wind of his magic. Each touch felt pleasant but it wasn’t until his hand rested between her hip bones that she felt her magic spark and rise up to meet his, like a cat rubbing against his hand, marking it and asking to be stroked. Hermione let out a gasp as Lucius’ fingers flexed in response and his magic rolled once more against hers, causing the spark to flare into flame within her and heat to spread through her abdomen. 

“Ahh,” he breathed into her ear, as his thumb rubbed in small circles against her stomach, “I should have known there would be flame at your core...such passion...a force of both destruction and renewal.”

“...I’m sorry?” asked Hermione, confused by his statement and not operating with all her faculties with his hands on her person. 

“What _are_ they teaching at Hogwarts these days? I shall have to complain to the governors,” he murmured in wry amusement. 

“Maybe it’s in the 7th year curriculum,” she snipped back. 

With a chuckle that Hermione felt more than heard, he began his explanation, “each witch or wizard has a primary alignment with an element: earth, water, air, or fire. In addition, their power is seated in one of three places: the head, the heart, or the sacred cradle. You, my dear, are most assuredly fire aligned, with your power stemming from your sacred cradle. The former makes your magic compatible with mine, which is air aligned, while the latter, well, let’s just say it improves the chances of success in establishing this bond and will make the process much more... _rewarding_.”

As he spoke his left hand drifted up her left arm, fingertips dragging against the fabric of her robes, across her shoulder, up her neck, along her jawline and into her hair, where he gripped firmly to guide her head to turn, bringing them face to face. Their eyes met briefly, his seeking assent, before he pulled her forward, bringing her lips to softly brush against his. In the next breath his fingers clenched in her hair, causing her to gasp in surprised pleasure. Lucius took advantage of that small opening and deepened the kiss, briefly sucking on her bottom lip before sweeping his tongue between her lips to softly stroke against hers. 

The kiss itself was simple yet every movement he made reminded her of his physical and magical power, which was arousing her more than she would have thought possible from such limited activities; in that brief time her nipples had peaked, her heart beat had picked up and warmth had started to spread outwards from the flame of her magic still bright within her.

He ended the kiss and turned her head by his grip on her hair, so she was facing forward. His lips ghosted against the shell of her ear and he purred, “suffice it to say, you are very well suited to be my mistress. I would drown you in pleasure and jewels if you were mine in both body and magic.”


	2. The Ritual

Hermione’s research continued in the Black library, this time on the rituals and traditions of the maîtresse magique. Her eyes flicked to the draft contract she’d received from the Malfoy’s solicitor and then back to the book in front of her before she pushed it away and let her head fall to the table with a thump, then she lifted it up and let it drop a few more times for good measure. It was no use, every time she got to a likely looking section the text was scrambled by the Black family magic to prevent her from unearthing its secrets. 

Hermione hated going into situations blind; she liked to plan and prepare for every eventuality. Unfortunately, her life as one of Harry Potter’s best friends had ended up with her taking part in any number of half baked schemes, like The Department of Mysteries. Even when they did have a plan, things seem to rapidly devolve into chaos, I’m looking at you Ministry mission to get Syltherin’s locket. If she had the right information then she could at least make the best possible decisions when circumstances inevitably changed.

Right now it felt like Malfoy held all the cards, he had something she desperately wanted, a chance to get her parents back, and what would he get in return? He’d said she’d be his, “body and magic.” So sex? Hermione knew she was young, fit after a year on the run, and relatively attractive but by no means was she a stunning beauty like Narcissa Malfoy. She just couldn’t see Lucius Malfoy accepting anything less than the very best. That left the other aspect she brought to this arrangement, her magic. Here, Hermione allowed herself to abandon all modesty, she was a powerful and clever witch and the last year of deparvation and war and honed her control of her craft to a razor’s edge. 

What would be asked of her? Would it be something she didn’t want to give? Could she see herself being intimate with Lucius Malfoy? He was certainly handsome and she’d felt first hand the firm muscles of his body as he’d held her in his lap. She flushed just thinking of the feelings he’d aroused in her with just his hands and his kiss. The thrill of his touch went beyond anything she’d previously experienced. 

But this wouldn’t be just sex, but an actual relationship, though admittedly not a type of relationship she’d ever expereienced. He had been polite and considerate this afternoon, asking for consent before entering into any intimacies. He was intelligent and knowledgeable about magic, quickly understanding the complexities of the problem of her parents’ memories as well as identifying the possible solution. Hermione’s mind whirled as she thought about how much he could teach her about wizarding culture, magic, and her own sexuality. If she had one besetting sin it was curiosity and Lucius Malfoy seemed tailor made to spark it.

It was time to owl her solicitor and start making her own edits to the contract.

* * *

“I do have some concerns about this ‘obedience’ section…” Hermione began as she sat next Lucius at a reading table in his study, “I’m not by nature a biddable person.”

Lucius nodded as she spoke and then reached out and took her hand and met her eyes as he explained, “everything I ask of you will serve to deepen our connection and prepare us both for the maîtresse magique ritual. You must trust me to guide you in this and to understand and respect your limits. However, I know that trust is earned and of course I am human and occasionally make mistakes or misjudge situations. Therefore we have the safe word/gesture addendum, which you may use if something is asked of you that is beyond your limits. Using your safe word will not only alert me but will also trigger a magical response which will halt events. The final decision to obey is ultimately yours, though I do hope you exercise restraint as frequent use will likely stymie our progress.”

Hermione took in his explanation and reluctantly nodded, she did feel better knowing she had an out if things took a wrong turn.

“Excellent, now when we sign the contract and perform the ritual for maîtresse physique we are in fact opening the doors for a future maîtresse magique connection. To that end, we will create an easier path for our magics to entwine. Here is the ritual we’ll be performing tonight,” Lucius said as he handed her the page of text and diagrams, “please review it and be prepared to perform it this evening at dusk.”

“Tizzy will help you prepare and should be able to answer any questions you have but have her let me know if you have any concerns she is not able to address.” With those words Lucius rose from his chair raising Hermione as well with a hand beneath her elbow. Once he’d reached his full height of nearly six feet he traced his thumb down her cheek and across her lips before dropping a swift but thorough kiss on them, “until tonight.”

Hermione watched him turn and leave with a swing of his rich robes and silvery hair before turning her attention to the house elf that had been summoned.

“I is being Tizzy, Mistress, you are following me,” the elf chirped happily.

Hermione followed Tizzy through a warren of hallways until she flung open the doors to a beautiful suite decorated in jewel blues and rich textures. There was a large four poster bed, a comfortable looking seating area, a bath near the fire as well as doors leading to a full ensuite bath and dressing room. It felt positively decadent. 

“This way Mistress, we be having lots to do to get ready,” the elf urged and she shooed Hermione into the ensuite. “Now, robes off,” and with a snap of Tizzy’s fingers Hermione’s robes were off her person and dropped neatly into the hamper. Hermione started to try to cover her bits with her hands before Tizzy waved her off impatiently and said, “no time, no time,” and handed her a cut glass bottle full of some unknown beauty potion, “put this all over your body from the neck down. Don’t be missing anyplace,” she added with a significant raise of her eyebrow ridges. Hermione blushed but hastened to comply. “Now, you lets it soak in for five minutes while Tizzy tidys your eyebrows.”

After five minutes Tizzy nudged Hermione into the shower to rinse off the potion...as well as all of her body hair. Tizzy glanced over her, nodding in approval before herding Hermione over to the bathtub by the crackling fire. She began the process of washing and conditioning Hermione’s extravagant hair, the witch happily closed her eyes as Tizzy’s bony fingers worked through her hair. Once she was done rinsing she rung it out and piled it atop Hermione’s head with a sticking charm. “Now you soaks in sweet oils until you smells good enough to eat.” Hermione, who had just sunk deeper into the tub up to her nose snorted out a laugh that had water spattering against her cheeks and bubbles growing and popping. 

She stayed in the tub for another 30 minutes before being briskly dried off with a fluffy towel and wrapped in an embroidered royal blue silk dressing gown, then sat at a nearby vanity with the ritual page in her hands so Tizzy could begin working on her hair while she read. As Tizzy worked she added, “you go to the ritual as you is, no prettying magics or face paints, no secrets.” When Hermione’s hand reached reflexively for her left arm and the glamour covering her scars from Bellatrix, Tizzy made a sound like an angry snorkack, “Miss Bella was a bad witch, we is not sorry she is gone. You is a brave witch,” Tizzy said with a firm poke to the witch’s shoulder, “you is not being ashamed.” Hermione smiled tremulously before she nodded her thanks and dropped the glamours that concealed her scars.

Tizzy stepped back once she had coaxed Hermione’s usually bushy mane into a riot of glossy curls. “Good, now, no paints but yous can pinch cheeks and bite lips for color.” The elf nodded in satisfaction when Hermione followed her directions. The elf then disappeared into the dressing room, returning momentarily with a thin white shift which she floated over the witch’s upraised arms after the dressing gown had been discarded, “last step, you be drinking this, no babies,” holding out a familiar blue contraceptive potion. The witch took it gratefully and knocked it back like it was courage in a bottle.

Tizzy stepped back and surveyed her charge, “any questions? You understand the ritual? At Hermione’s nod the elf smiled and nodded back, “then you is ready, take my hand and we is going.” The elf popped them just outside a set of standing stones, shrouded with tall green grass, surrounded inside and out with the flicker of fairy lights as the little creatures buzzed around, ready to soak in the magic about to be performed, and in the center of it all was Lucius Malfoy, standing before a raised altar covered in fabric and scattered with various magical implements and the contract they’d just reviewed. He was dressed, as she was, in simple white linen; without all the trappings of wealth and refinement that Lucius usually wore he seemed larger and more elemental. The elf squeezed the witch’s hand before dropping it and popping away, leaving Hermione alone at the entrance with her soon to be protector.

* * *

Lucius left the standing stones to greet Hermione before bending down to lift up the petite witch to carry her into the center of the Malfoy stones and welcome her into the ritual. Hermione startled a bit at the sudden change in perspective, her arm going around him, fingers clutching at his shoulder for purchase. The action pressed her unbound breast into his chest, the scratchy linen providing an interesting point of friction between their bodies, rasping her nipples that had peaked in the cool evening air. Lucius strode with her in his arms to the stone altar, gently setting her down atop the fabric. Hermione nervously clasped her knees and stared at her hands as she absently picked at the white linen stretched over them.

Lucius lifted himself onto the other end of the altar facing Hermione and leaned over, catching his knuckle under her chin and raising her face up to his for a swift kiss, “are you ready?” At her steady assent he said, “Then let’s begin.”

They both arranged themselves so they were kneeling, facing one another, spines straight, knees slightly spread with the contract on the altar between them. First Lucius and then Hermione signed the contract which took on a subtle glow as she lifted her quill off the page. Hermione held up her hands together in a bowl shape as though cupping water and started speaking, “I, Hermione Jean Granger of my own free will and in accordance with this contract signed by my hand vow to warm you in my fire,” as she said the last word she pushed magic into her hands and filled her cupped palms with her favorite blue bell flames, the fire hovering without touching her skin, so she felt the heat of it. But instead of the fire burning her palms it spread throughout her body, relaxing her muscles, deepening her breaths, and rushing blood to her sex. Hermione’s eyes seemed to become more golden as the magic filled her and she let out a breathy moan, feelings as though she had experienced hours of foreplay instead of just signing a contract. 

Lucius held his hands cupped in the same manner but upside down above hers. “I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Viscount of Wiltshire and Patriarch of the Malfoy family, of my own free will and in accordance with this contract signed by my hand vow to feed your flame with my breath.” With the word ‘breath’ Lucius tapped into his magic and blew gently at the fire held between them, the oxygen from his breath and the power from his magic fed the flames, turing them silver bright and causing Hermione and Lucius to jerk as they felt tied to each other from the source of their magic through the flames held between them. Then they both opened their hands and drew them away so the flame was able to rise into the air and float hovering above them.

Lucius then reached out to Hermione, drew up the linen shift and tossed it to the ground, revealing her nakedness to his eyes for the first time. He looked his fill at the beautiful witch he would shortly possess before removing his own linen shirt and trousers, revealing his heavily aroused body to her hungry eyes. Their skin glistened in the reflected light from the fire and the fairies, painting each curve and valley, ridge and divot in dancing light. Starting at her shoulder blades Lucius drew his hands down her back as he helped her recline on the rumpled fabric, the first touch of skin on skin during the ritual seemed to arc between them, amping up the heavy feel of magic in the air. 

With their magic so connected and the ritual started the Malfoy family magic urgently wanted them to move forward towards completion, it felt to Hermione like a line of gunpowder burning, racing to its source, an explosion imminent. Unnoticed by either of them, the standing stones around them began to glow, the watching fairies chittering in excitement as they danced across the shining stones.

Hermione leaned back fully on the altar and spread her legs, with her knees slightly bent revealing yet another of her secrets to him. Lucius held back a groan as the firelight gilded the glistening petals of her sex. He leaned forward, his upper body weight held off of her with his arms as his hips settled between her thighs and the head of his cock was nestled just between her lower lips. He lowered his upper body onto hers and kissed her deeply, before vowing, “I offer you the protection of my body” as he began to nudge inside her.

Each vow tied them more tightly together, drawing together their magical cores like magnets. As Hermione felt Lucius press deeper into her, pushing past her clasping muscles, she gasped, “I offer you the pleasure of my body.” 

And oh, it was pleasure, the scalding heat of her sheath clasping around him, dragging him in. Lucius pressed his pelvic bone into her mons ripping a cry from her throat before he began to retreat and then return, establishing a rolling rhythm, his hands tightening on her arse with each thrust, “I offer you the shelter of my family.”

Lucius’ body moved above her, blotting out the stars until the only light she saw was shining in his eyes. Hermione’s hips rose and fell with his, her thighs grasping his flanks as she gasped out, “I offer you my loyalty in all that I do and say.”

With her vow Lucius felt a flash of her character, fierce loyalty tempered by her own moral code. Lucius followed with “I offer you the touch of my family magic,” and the magic flooded from the surrounding stones bathing Lucius’ body as he thrust into her.

It felt as if he were thrusting not only his body into her but his magic as well. With Lucius’ last vow the Malfoy magic swirled inside her filling her up and lifting her magic with its tide. Hermione forced out past the full feeling in her chest, “I offer you the touch of my magic,” as she did so her body began to glow as well, like she was lit from within.

The moment hung in the air, like the weightless pause at the top of a swing, when you’re going neither up nor down. With them both aglow with magic and desperate for completion Lucius next thrust ignited the gunpowder within them, their climaxes triggering a shockwave of magic that caused the contract and the standing stones to flash brightly and knocked the little fairies back off their perches. The stones hummed in pleasure as wave after wave washed over and strengthen them. The witch and wizard fell asleep between one breath and the next as the lights faded from the stones around them and the fairies floated away, sated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments and kudos, they really help lift my mood in the midst of all this craziness!


	3. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnddd the kink escalates from here on out, please mind the tags as they will be updated with each chapter as necessary.

Hermione awoke late the next morning back in her suite. She arched her head back into the pillows with a groan, stretching fingers and toes, encountering only cool sheets and fluffy pillows. She lay back and relaxed her body, pausing to take stock. The low buzz of her magic seemed somewhat heightened, and was it her imagination or did the house feel a little, friendlier? Changes she likely would have ignored if she hadn’t taken part in a ritual the previous evening.

She rose from the bed, freshened up in the ensuite and donned her blue embroidered dressing gown. That seemed to be some sort of signal for Tizzy, who appeared in the room directly after Hermione had finished tightening the sash. 

“Mistress is to meet Master in the morning room for breakfast,” Tizzy commanded.

“Dressed like this?” Hermione squeaked, picturing the whole family around the table, with herself in deshibile. 

The elf giggled as if this was a silly question. “There is only Master dining with you today, the rest of the family is at the chateau in Provence. You follows me and try to remember the way.” Hermione nodded and attempted to memorize the turns but she lost track a few minutes into their walk and resigned herself to following after the little elf for some time until she got her bearings. The scents of tea and fresh baked goods reached her before the sounds of the occasional gentle clink of china. She stood uncertainly in the doorway, not knowing the proper protocol for such a classy “morning after” and hesitant to guess. Lord Malfoy, for he certainly gave off that aura again, looked as polished as ever in fine grey blue robes, sipping his tea and reading the newspaper.

Lucius noticed her at that moment, “Ahh, there you are my sweet, come,” his gesture beckoning her to him. Looking at his handsome face she felt a rising excitement inside of her that she had trouble identifying. Was this their stellar chemistry or the magic linking them after the ritual? Or was the chemistry as she saw it really a manifestation of the compatibility of their magic?

Lucius, unencumbered with such concerns slid his chair a little further from the table and spread his knees so he could draw her to stand between them. “You seem a bit...overdressed for this event, as my mistress you should always be dressed appropriately.” He reached out a fingertip and drew it slowly down from her clavicle to the ‘V’ in her dressing gown, his finger continued its journey forcing apart the two halves gliding between her breasts and down her belly. He drew his hand forward and grasped the trailing end of the sash and pulled, slowly unraveling the bow, causing the robe to gape further, exposing a strip of her skin from her neck to her toes to the bright light of the morning room. He brought both hands up to sweep the garment from her shoulders and tossed it across one of the dining chairs. 

“There, now you are dressed perfectly for the occasion,” he stated, leaning back to appreciate her youthful beauty before sliding his hand over her hips and drawing her down to perch on his thigh. She sat with her knees primly together, hands clasped in her lap as if uncertain where to put them. “None of this shyness,” he chided, one hand circling her breast as the other stroked her knee, “you are a beautiful woman and your body is made to be admired and pleasured.” When her eyes flickered to his in surprise he continued. “You don’t believe me? It shall be my pleasure to make sure that is a lesson you will never forget.” As he spoke his fingers gently nudged her knees apart, then his palm roved up the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. When he reached the apex of her thighs his warm hand cupped her, squeezing lightly and then skimming his fingers to brush lightly up and down her slit from her opening to her clit and back again. 

His fingers continued their teasing dance as Lucius leaned forward slightly to select a plate of crumpets from the table. “Oh,” he exclaimed in a faux concerned tone, “the elves have forgotten the sweet cream, wherever will I find some?” With these words a smirk lifted his lips and his fingers changed from tracing her lightly to spreading her lips and dipping his middle finger into her with a deep penetrating rhythm. “Would you help me?” He queried, “would you be so good as to provide the sweet cream this morning? If we’re going to use you as our honey pot we need to get you much wetter. We are getting there are we not? I can feel your need spilling out, I think I can hear it too.” He said with a wicked grin. “You needn't have been quite so prodigious, there is, after all, only you and I at breakfast just now. Ah well, no matter,” he murmured as he removed his fingers from her wet sheath and used them to break a small piece of a crumpet before directing the bite of the crumpet and his slick fingers into her mouth. “Open up.”

Hermione trembled as several emotions fought within her prominence, a thwarted lust, embarrassment as his teasing, and a curious desire he aroused in her mind at the reaction her body had to his words. Her curiosity won out and she parted her lips to allow him to feed her the crumpet followed by his fingers shining with evidence of her desire, his fingers stroked against her tongue, encouraging her to suck her essence off of them before allowing her to chew and swallow the small bite.

“How is that my sweet, do you like your breakfast?” He purred, stroking her cheek with still damp fingers, “why don’t you feed me a bite as well? Make sure to get lots of cream.” Hermione closed her eyes and pressed two fingers into her channel, pumping in and out a few times before pulling them out with a little whimper. She opened her eyes to find his burning silver gaze locked on her now dripping fingers as they reached for a piece of crumpet and brought it to his lips. She hesitantly pushed her wet fingers into his mouth, allowing him to suck off her juices. Her hesitancy died as his talented tongue wrapped around her fingers causing her to let out a soft moan. She removed her fingers when he was done and watched his strong jaw work as he chewed and swallowed down the crumpet.

A clock chimed somewhere nearby in the manor, the echoing gong causing Hermione to startle in Lucius’ lap. He patted her hip and sighed, “unfortunately my sweet, I need to be off.” Hermione hastily stood so Lucius could also rise, he leaned in and briefly gripped her waist with one hand to pull her closer before pressing a firm kiss to her lips and turning to leave through the open doors. Hermione dazedly resettled herself in Lucius’ vacated seat and began to pick at the partially eaten crumpet. It didn’t taste nearly as sweet without cream.

* * *

Hermione shrugged on her robe and called for Tizzy to lead her back to her room. She was ready to start her day but she wasn’t ready to do it without knickers. Which is where the first impediment to slowly forming plan appeared. Hermione hovered at the entrance of what she thought was her dressing room and looked around in confusion, “where are my clothes, Tizzy?”

The elf gave her a concerned look, “they’s is put away, Mistress.”

“But where?” Entreated Hermione.

The elf nudged her into the dressing room and began opening drawers and waving her hand at various selections of folded and hung finery as she spoke, “underthings, night things, day robes, evening robes, shoes, accessories.” When Hermione stayed quiet in the face of all the new fripperies Master had requested for her, Tizzy stopped her tour.

“Is it nots to your liking?,” the elf asked, knotting her fingers together.

“No! They’re all perfectly lovely, but where are MY things, you know, what I brought with me?”

“Master is saying theys is not appropriate for The Malfoy Mistress. These being much…”

Hermione cut off the elf’s increasingly high pitched explanation with a sharp hand gesture. There was no use haranguing the elf, she obviously didn’t have the answers Hermione sought, and she doubted very much she’d like them once she got them from the horse’s mouth. She ran her hand along the sleeves of the jewel-bright silken robes as she considered going naked rather than wearing them in a sort of protest at his high handedness but having the inevitable “discussion” with Malfoy was unlikely to be helped by her being naked. The practical decision had absolutely nothing to do with how much she longed to wear such beautiful clothes and to explore what had been selected for her, nothing at all to do with it.


	4. Discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please mind the tags, they’ve been updated for this chapter

Lucius returned home with a sense of anticipation, he very much looked forward to guiding the lovely and passionate Miss Granger in the ways to please him. He pondered what lesson he would impart to her next as he made his way to the library, having been directed there by Mipsy. He entered the library and found her sprawled along a leather sofa in front of the fire, a book open before her and her fingers slowly twisting a curl as she read. The glow of the firelight kissed across her features and sparked in the amber in her hair. Her form was draped lovingly in a flowing robe of royal purple. 

Lucius quietly closed the door and leaned back against it to better appreciate the sight she made, “you look lovely, Hermione.”

As her eyes lifted from her book and met his he was surprised to see the glint in them wasn’t pleasure at the compliment but a flash of annoyance. “What’s this look for then?” He asked, wondering what had triggered her temper since he’d been gone. He’d left her sweet and wanting this morning, ahh perhaps that was it? Unquenched desire?

He settled himself into an armchair mate of the sofa and quirked his fingers and lips at her, “come here mon lion and tell me what’s upset you.” Hermione rose somewhat reluctantly to her feet and stood in front of him. 

Lucius clasped her hand and tugged her down so she was once again perched on his knee, at least she had clothes on this time. Clothes! “I don’t see why I couldn’t keep my old clothes,'' she muttered, her eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of his chin. She watched his lips compress and feared she’d somehow overstepped. She still wasn’t quite sure of the rules in all of this.

Lucius considered for a moment and then called for Mipsy, “Mipsy, bring me the red lacquer box from my study.” Mipsy returned momentarily, setting the box into his palm, after which he tucked it away in his pocket. Her eyes followed the movement and then settled again well below his eyes.

Lucius’ knuckle caressed up her throat before stopping beneath her chin and bringing it up so Hermione’s eyes met his. “When you pledged yourself to me in this ritual you gave me power of your body, the least of which is in what you wear. You will wear what I wish you to wear.” When her face remained set in mutinous lines he let go of her, leaning back in his chair for a moment before commanding her, “stand and strip.”

“What?” She squeaked. 

“Do not make me repeat myself, you will not like the consequences.”

Hermione searched his steely grey eyes and in seeing no bluff there she rose shakily to her feet and reached for the buttons of her robes. As Hermione undid one button after another Lucius considered the beauty being unveiled before him. He would not tolerate her to taking out her fits of pique on him, he must start as he meant to go on. 

Hermione finally got to the last button, slipping it through its fastening and then wiggling her shoulders to drop the robe to the floor. She stood there is a bra and panty set of Gryffindor red, whether that was to give herself courage or to wave the red flag at a bull he wasn’t sure, but he certainly didn’t care. 

Without lifting his hand from the armrest of the chair Lucius flicked two negligent fingers at her underwear and prompted her, “all of it, Hermione.”

She reached up behind her with one arm to pinch open the clasp while the other held the cups in place against her breasts before she took a deep breath and dropped the garment to join her robes on the floor. She then slid her thumbs under the waistband of her knickers and peeled them downwards until they fell to the floor under the pull of gravity. 

His face stil stern, Lucius raked his eyes over her exposed body, noting her tightened nipples. His lips quirked, “halfway there,” he murmured to her. Then shushed her questioning noise and pulled her to him as he leaned forward in his chair. His hands rose up to cup and fondle her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples and then catching them lightly between his fingers to build on the sensation. He continued on in this manner with one breast while he lifted the other higher on her chest and engulfed her pink nipple in the hot haven of his mouth, causing Hermione’s breath to ease out in a sigh. 

With Lucius’s gentle titillation Hermione relaxed into his caresses and let her mind float in the pleasure. She was jolted to a more firm awareness when his suction suddenly increased, pulling all of her nipple into his mouth before slowly backing off and bringing teeth together around the firm tip before it could slip from his lips. 

He continued to worry her nipple with teeth and tongue and lips until it was a bright pink instead of the earlier dusky rose. As he pulled back from her breast he blew on her nipple causing a spike in her arousal before switching to her other breast and subjecting it to the same treatment while using his fingers to keep the first nipple firm and bright. He paused a few times leaning back and comparing the color of her swollen tips like a thoughtful art connoisseur, nibbling on one breast or the other before evidently deciding that they had both reached the desired color. 

“Now, close your eyes, I have something for you.” Lucius prompted. He pulled the lacquered box from his pocket and removed the sparkling objects before gently sliding first one and then the other over the top of her nipples, easing them down until her swollen ends peaked temptingly from the filigreed surround of platinum, diamonds, and sapphires. He then draped the matching chain loosely around her neck, connecting it to each bejeweled shield.Hermione’s body jolted a bit when the cool metal touched her skin but that was nothing compared to her reaction when he whispered the trigger word to the magical jewelry and shields clamped down firmly, the chain shortening to reduce any slack. Her back arched and a pained groan with an edge of pleasure was forced from her lips.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out before rising from his seat and allowing her to open her eyes so he could guide her to face the mirror over the fireplace. The erotisism of the image they made made a possessive thrill run through him. He stood towering behind the petite witch, fully clothed and cool eyed while she stood before him, naked save for the jewels he’d just adorned her with, her eyes bright with desire, her body flushed, and arousal glistening at her sex. “How do you feel, mon lion?”

Hermione licked her lips then answered, “turned on, sexy…” she trailed off. 

“Yes,” he agreed, watching his reflection as he cupped her breasts in his hands, fingers spread so her decorated peaks remained visible. “You look like a woman on the brink of release. We could have a little dinner party, give you an opportunity to wear your new present, how about that?” He questioned.

Hermione met his eyes uncertainly in the mirror, did he mean to expose her body in front of his friends?

“Of course, if you’re a good girl and accept your gifts graciously, no one will see your latest present, they’ll see you outfitted in charming robes, and while they might guess at what has you so...radiant, they won’t know, will they?” His charming tone then hardened, “but if you defy me about the wardrobe provided for you then you’ll wear nothing at all but these baubles and they will know exactly why you look like you need to be fucked.” 

“Because you do need to be fucked, don’t you, Miss Granger? Isn’t that right? Would you like to be fucked while you wear your new present?” He punctuated his question by grinding his erection against her.

Hermione’s color rose darker on her cheeks and she hesitated a moment before he tightened his grip on her breasts, prompting an answer. “Yes,” she agreed.

“Yes, what?” He directed, not loosening his grip, “yes, you need to be fucked?”

“Yes, I want you to…” Hermione paused before getting it all out in a rush, “yes, I want you to fuck me, please Lucius.” 

His hands loosened at her admission before spinning her around, tapping his wand to a chaise lounge to raise it up to his hip level, then lifting her up so she sprawled face down across it. He notched the head of his cock at her opening and paused a moment to appreciate the sight of her wanton display, cleft pink and wet, the witch wiggling and desperate to be filled before he gripped each of her thighs beneath the delicious curve of her arse and rotated his hands spreading her open further so he could watch as he slowly sank every inch of his cock into this little witch for the first time without the magic riding them both. 

“Ahhh, so tight, so wet for me,” Lucius purred, then he watched transfixed as his glistening cock withdrew from her body and then plunged forward again, causing the woman beneath him to moan. He kept up a steady pace, adjusting his speed and angle until Hermione was emitting near constant sounds and breathy pleas. Lucius then slid his fingers through the folds of her sex around his shuttling cock, gathering moisture before gliding two fingers along the top of her clit so that each thrust rocked her into them. 

With the added stimulation, Hermione began to peak, Lucius then whispered the release spell on her new adornment so they loosened their tight hold, allowing blood to flood back into her nipples, the sudden painful return of feeling in conjunction with Lucius’ pounding cock and clever fingers sent Hermione over the edge, her inner muscles clamping around Lucius, pulling him with her into climax.

Lucius carefully pulled out of her with a slight groan and adjusted their bodies lengthwise on the lounge. 

Lucius stretched out on the chaise on his back, his right arm flexed behind his head while he wrapped his left around a sated Hermione, pulling her in against his chest. She curled into his side, resting her head on his pec and throwing a crooked knee over his thigh, and let out a soft sigh of contentment. 

“Lucius, how is it I’ve come to feel so comfortable around you so quickly?” 

Lucius hmmed and allowed his fingers to trail through the ends of her curls, her magic sending little shots of pleasure to his fingertips as he stroked them, “if I had to guess, aside from our general compatibility, I’d say the Malfoy magic is working on us both. Remember this is meant to be a symbiotic relationship. You have strong magic and the Malfoy family magic has had a taste now, it will want to be sure this binding succeeds.”

“You make it sound like it has a will of its own. Is it manipulating my feelings? Has this happened before? What would the magic consider a success?” Hermione’s thoughts and questions ran through her at high speed.

“Hush, it cannot manufacture feelings, it just smooths the way here and there, almost like Felix Felicis, it adjusts the circumstances to improve the chances of success. As for what that success looks like? It could be any number of things,” he said, somewhat vaguely, Hermione thought. “Certainly the attainment of the maîtresse magique bond.”

The magic between them was growing, slowly, connecting them as they connected their bodies. Each compromise, each mutual pleasure, each moment of contentment found together advanced the bond and strengthened the tendrils of magic linking them together.

“How long do you think it will take for us to achieve the maîtresse magique bond?” Hermione, wondered aloud. 

Lucius considered his answer as, unbeknownst to Hermione, her curls chased his retreating fingers. He tried to keep the triumph from his voice as he assured her, “it won’t be long now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for you comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions, they really motivate me to write more :D Lucius is plotting...I apologize about there being plot, that wasn’t the original plan, it sprung up and attacked me - as the saying goes, if Lucius isn’t plotting, he’s dead. ;)


	5. A Change in the Pattern

As Hermione’s first week in the manor drew to a close she realized that a bit of a routine had developed. While Lucius was at the ministry or seeing to the various Malfoy holdings, Hermione would spend most of her day reading from the vast Malfoy collection either in the gleaming library or somewhere out in the gardens. Though when in the gardens she had to keep watch out for Lucius’ awful peacocks. The pampered chickens seemed to hate her, the feeling was mutual.

Everyday Hermione would try to read the grimoire that held the information about mind magic that may be able to return her parent’s memories, hoping that the words on the page would quit rearranging themselves whenever she tried. And everyday the words remained resolutely indecipherable, it seemed the book knew Hermione’s ties to the family were not strong enough for her to work the magic, yet.

Every evening Hermione and Lucius would dine together, followed by a drink together in front of the fire in Lucius’ study. As each evening slipped into night Lucius would ravish her body. Some experiences with him were new to Hermione, while others were not. Sometimes he savored her slowly, building up her pleasure until it swept through her like a rising tide, and sometimes he took her quickly, the pleasure crashing down on her like an ocean wave, stealing her breath and breaking her lose from the confines of gravity. What was always constant in their couplings was firm control he had over each encounter and the presence of their magic, always there, always drawing them together, always feeding the power they released in their pleasure back into the bond. 

It was a gradual thing, perhaps they thought of each other during their separate days a bit more frequently, perhaps the pages of the family grimoire clung briefly to her fingertips, perhaps her lumos was ever so slightly brighter. There were signs, but they were subtle, and while Hermione had long since learned to trust her magic she had always had a hard time believing in the ethereal, always had a hard time believing in the external forces at work in the magical world when they could only rarely be felt, when they were not recorded in any book she had read. And so the slight shifts to her place in the fabric of the magical world went unnoticed by Hermione. After all, she herself was not being changed, but her thread was being laid out on the loom in a new pattern and through it all Hermione Granger remained blissfully unaware.

* * *

That Friday, Lucius returned home from the ministry in late afternoon to find Hermione taking tea in the ladies sitting room. She looked up at him, surprised when he knocked briefly on the doorframe, before smiling warmly and gesturing him inside. 

“I’m surprised to find you outside of the library.” Lucius' statement carrying a query as he settled himself next to her on the sette.

“Well,” Hermione huffed as she fixed Lucius a cup of tea exactly as he preferred, lemon and a drop of honey, “the elves won’t serve tea to me in the library any longer.” She handed Lucius his cup and saucer and then continued at his quirked eyebrow, with a roll of her eyes, “honestly, I forgot the rules one time and took a cup of tea to the reading area and now they’ve practically banned me from drinking in the library for life!” 

Lucius suppressed his chuckle at her complaint and shook his head sadly, “oh Hermione, I hope you like this room for afternoon tea, it will take quite a lot to earn back your tea privileges.” His eyes danced at her over the rim of his cup as he took a sip.

Hermione huffed quietly, mumbling something under her breath that he thought might have been “little dictators.”

Lucius hid the twitch of his lips behind his cup, lowering it to his saucer after schooling his features.“Enough about the elves, my dear, I did have something to tell you. I’ve made reservations at La Mistral for this evening, Tizzy can help you select something if you are unsure regarding the appropriate attire.”

“We’re going out?”

“Yes.”

“In public?”

“Yes,” he drawled, “restaurants tend to be ‘in public.’”

“But…” Hermione hesitated, her eyes flitted about the very feminine room, which she no doubt correctly guessed was precisely decorated to Narcissa’s taste, “what about your wife?”

“What about my wife?” There was a thread of devilment in his eyes as he added, “she will not be attending.” 

“But won’t she find out? About me? About us?” Hermione’s unease grew the more she thought about it. She’d received his offer of help and grabbed onto it with both hands. She hadn’t let herself dwell on the rest of the Malfoys, and certainly not on Lucius’ wife. If she were honest, she hadn’t wanted to give herself any excuses to turn him down. She had wanted so desperately what he had to offer. When her tea cup began to rattle lightly in its saucer, Lucius’ reached out and took her tea, placing it gently on the tray. His next words broke her out of her thought spiral.

“I’ve no secrets from my wife, she knows.”

“She knows?” Hermione repeated back, blinking quickly, feeling very out of her depth.

“Well, she doesn’t know about dinner,” he temporized, “but in general, about you? Yes, of course she knows.”

“And she doesn’t mind?” Hermione was embarrassed to hear her voice go up an octave in pitch, but she couldn’t take it back now. 

“Not at all, she thought it was a fine idea.”

Now Hermione felt as if she were in an episode of The Twilight Zone. “Is this some pureblood culture thing? Wives don’t care if their husbands have mistresses?!” She had thought she’d understood the rules, it seemed to her that she was living in one of her mum’s regency romances that she’d read on sly during the summer hols. But this, Narcissa knowing all about Hermione, that did not exactly jive with her working theory.

Lucius chuckled, “no, no, there are several pureblood matrons in society who would hit their husbands with a castration curse if they had done half of what we have done together. No, it is a Narcissa ‘thing,’ as you put it.” 

Lucius paused, obviously organizing his thoughts. “Narcissa is not interested in marital relations.” He saw Hermione’s mouth open and he shook his head, “Narcissa’s reasons are her own, they are not mine to share with you.” Hermione’s jaw snapped shut at his remonstration, Lucius waited a beat to be sure Hermione had contained her questions. “What is relevant to you, is that Narcissa has requested that I go elsewhere for my...physical needs, and I respect that request.”

“But you stay married?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Lucius turned his body, meeting Hermione’s eyes, “I love Narcissa, she is the mother of my child, my closest friend, and most effective ally. We just no longer have a sexual relationship.”

When he said it so plainly he made it seemed perfectly reasonable. Though it did create a worm of self doubt in her stomach, did this mean he only valued her for meeting his ‘physical needs?’

“Okay, okay,” Hermione said from behind her hands as she pressed them into her face and dragged them upwards and backwards over her scalp as if she could press all of the thoughts she’d been struggling with to the back of her brain to make room for more present concerns. She glanced at the mantle clock and stood up, if they were going to dinner, she needed to get ready. She turned and watched as Lucius rose as well, and met his eyes, “so we’ll go to this restaurant and no one will care?”

Lucius smirked, “oh they’ll care, all right,” he reached out to her, pulling her into his body, lifting her arms to twine around his neck, before trailing his hands down her arms and body to to rest on the small of her back. He stooped down to bury his face in her neck and spoke into her skin, “after all the Princess” a sweet kiss to her neck,”of The Golden Trio will be seen romantically with none other than former,” a scrape of his teeth over her jugular, “Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione’s head tipped back in pleasure while she tried to keep her wits. Lucius let his hands wander downward to grip her arse tightly before unwinding her arms and turning her to face the door, “go on now, get ready.” As Hermione started to move she felt an unexpected smack against her backside, when she looked at him reproachfully over her shoulder. He laughed, his eyes dancing, and put his hands in his pockets in a deliberate gesture of keeping them to himself as he watched her walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, my social anxiety makes the idea of trying to answer all of your lovely comments totally overwhelming. Please know that I eagerly read each one with a huge smile on my face and I really appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts!  
> ~Gal


	6. Charging

Hermione looked into her mirror and felt she and Tizzy had made it work. Tizzy had selected her clothes down to the skin, as well as doing her hair and makeup. Since Tizzy was involved Hermione thought she looked flawless, if not exactly like herself. She wore sweeping robes in Sapphire blue with her glossy curls in a waterfall over her shoulder, her makeup seemed to be airbrushed perfection. 

Hermione was startled from her contemplation of her reflection by a knock to her door. Lucius entered the room and leaned back against the closed door, a rather predatory smile on his face as he took her in. Lucius’ eyes didn’t leave Hermione as he dismissed the elf, “that’ll be all Tizzy.” The elf popped away in an instant and Hermione was left with the frankly devastating view of Lucius Malfoy in dress robes. He was a large, powerfully built man, his broad shoulders and narrow waist were emphasized by the cut of his suit jacket and waistcoat. His severe good looks were beautifully offset by the velvet blackness of his jacket and its swirling silver accents. 

After Lucius completed his heated perusal of her form he pushed away from the door and stalked toward her. “You look beautiful, my dear, nearly perfect.”

“ _Nearly_ perfect?” Hermione repeated back, with a slight frown, glancing in the mirror behind her, looking for the flaw in her appearance.

“Not to worry Pet, I have just the thing to rectify the situation.” Lucius returned with a sly smile, reaching into his breast pocket and removing two jewelry boxes.

The sight of the boxes caused a thrill to run through Hermione. She didn’t necessarily consider herself materialistic but she loved beautiful things, things that caught the eye and held it captive. That could surely explain some of her fascination with Lucius Malfoy. 

Lucius smiled at Hermione’s brightened expression and set the boxes on her vanity top before turning Hermione to face her mirror. She watched her reflection as Lucius stood behind her, gathered her curls, and crushed them lightly in his hands releasing the heady fragrance of roses and mallow. He lowered his head to bury his face in the silken cloud before settling them in front of her left shoulder. 

He reached past her and selected the larger of the two boxes and requested she close her eyes. Hermione complied and drew in a steadying breath as she felt the heavy weight of cool metal settle around her neck. There was a brief moment of Lucius magicing the clasp closed and then he laid his hands on the tops of her shoulders and invited her to open her eyes. 

Hermione opened her eyes and gasped, “oh, Lucius!” The sight that met her eyes was transfixing. Seemingly of their own volition her fingers lifted to touch the extravagant necklace of sapphires and diamonds that lay across her collar bones at the base of her neck. The necklace was made of 8 large sapphires the size of robin’s eggs, surrounded by small round diamonds with delicate platinum metal working embedded with diamonds between each sapphire. 

Lucius watched Hermione possessively as she marveled at the jewels he laid around her neck, his thumbs sweeping back and forth on her shoulders. He bent his head again and kissed the skin above one of the sparkling sapphires. At his kiss a delicate blush suffused her face. “These are the Malfoy family sapphires, they’ve been in the family for several centuries, this set is a duplicate of a set owned by the French Crown. They’re yours to wear as long as you’re with us.”

Hermione turned to face Lucius and reached to bring his face down for a kiss, “they’re beautiful Lucius, thank you.”

Lucius accepted her sweet kiss and then deepened it, cupping her face, his thumb gently sliding along the hollow of her cheek as his tongue stroked hers. Without breaking the kiss he blindly cleared a space on Hermione’s vanity top and then lifted her to sit on it. Hermione spread her legs to allow Lucius to move forward between them to press his hot and hard body against hers. His erection rubbed persistently against her center through the barrier of his trousers and the layers of her dress. Lucius slipped his hands under the hem of her dress and trailed his fingers up to her knees before running his palms up and down over the tops of her thighs, thumbs occasionally grazing her covered mound as he ground into her. 

At the peak of their journey Lucius hands grasped onto the sides of her underwear then he stepped away, dragging her knickers down her legs in his retreat. Hermione blinked dazedly trying to regain her equilibrium after he had so suddenly quit their activities. She didn’t have time to recover before Lucius had rucked up her skirts and pressed himself once more against her body. She groaned as she felt his knuckles brush her lower lips and clit while he quickly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers to release his cock. With it finally free he drug the leaking tip up and down her slit, coating it in her juices before slamming into her body, causing her to let out a short scream at his abrupt entrance. 

Instead of continuing his thrusts Lucius stayed pressed inside of her and lifted one hand from her hips to lift her chin so she was looking him in the eyes. He waitied for her eyes to focus on his before speaking, “Hermione, there’s one more piece I’d like you to wear, if you’ll allow it?”

Hermione pushed back the pleasure she felt with him inside her and tried to think through the request and considered some of the other jewelry he had adorned her body with, “show me what it is first.”

Lucius smirked and leaned forward causing his cock inside of her to nudge just that smallest distance farther dislodging a squeak from Hermione’s lungs. Lucius opened the box and pulled out two enamel ben wa balls, about the size of golf balls. Despite their intimate connection Hermione couldn’t help but giggle as she asked, “you want me to do kegels during dinner?”

Lucius continued to hold the balls in his hands as he began thrusting again in a torturously slow rhythm. “Not quite, pet,” he explained with the air of a man concentrating on maintaining a spell. “You see, we can use these delightful little balls to build up and store magical energy, it’s an aspect of tantric sex magic. We’ll need their charge for the maîtresse magique ritual.”

When Lucius’ thrust seemed to be speeding up he paused for a moment and rested his forehead against hers. “The most critical point is that the longer we build on our arousal before climax the more power we’ll be able to store.”

“Then why, exactly, are we doing this on my vanity when we need to leave for dinner shortly?” Hermione’s voice had jumped mid sentence as Lucius began thrusting again.

“Luckily, or unluckily, I suppose, depending on your point of view, you are the key practitioner in this little ritual. Mine is but a bit part. So,” Lucius purred into her ear as he once again increased his pace, “I am going to cum in your perfect pussy while channeling my magic into these orbs, and you are going to wait. You are not to come, do you understand? Not until I say you may, and that will not be anytime soon.”

Hermione nodded quickly and tried to center her thoughts to hold off her climax. Over the last week sex with Lucius had trained her body to respond so readily to his. This was the first time he had told her not to come and it was a struggle to hold it back. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, reaching for calm as Lucius groaned and thrusts stuttered, reducing to a few deep pulses with him buried to the hilt inside of her, filling her with hot spurts of his seed. 

Hermione let her head fall back and tried to let her excitement start to simmer down. She brought her head back up when she felt Lucius stir. She lifted the skirts of her dress out of the way and watched with curiosity as Lucius slowly withdrew his glistening cock and caught an escaping trickle of his come on his fingers, which he pushed back into her, then before any more could escape he pushed the first ball inside of her before slowly pushing it upwards through his come to rest as high as his fingers could push it, the second ball was introduced in the same manner but he ceased pushing upward when he felt the second ball meet the first. “There,” he said, dragging his fingers slowly out of her, pumping them back in once more before finally removing them, not giving Hermione an opportunity to appreciate his movements. He bent down and slipped her knickers over her feet and up her legs, having her lift her hips so he could settle them into place. He patted his hand over covered sex and asked her, “how does that feel, pet?”

It felt..positively filthy in the most decadent way. As she focused inward she noticed something in addition to the physical, she could feel his presence inside of her, a steady hum of his magic from his seed and the balls lodged in her pussy. It was distracting but not overly stimulating. Hermione nodded, “I feel alright, though I still don’t understand why I have to go to dinner like this.”

Lucius explained, “I know how insatiable you can be pet, so I thought if we went out to a public place that it would give you the proper motivation to hold out longer and store a greater amount of power in the balls before you succumb.” 

Hermione sighed, “oh alright, let’s do it.” 

Lucius grinned in approval, “good girl.” His grin grew even wider as he heard her breath catch. 

Oh no, he’d stumbled upon a weakness of hers and she was certain he’d exploit it now that he knew. She couldn’t help it, she’d always craved approval, from her teachers, her lovers. She wanted to know she was doing a good job. She could see some puzzle pieces sliding into place behind his eyes and she knew she was in trouble.

Apparently he decided to tuck that knowledge away for now, he simply helped her down from the vanity. His eyes raked over her critically and he shook his head, “we cannot go out like this, you look freshly fucked.”

He really should not say things like that to her in his cut glass accent when she was still trying to back off the proverbial edge.

“Tizzy!” Lucius called, and continued when the elf popped into the room, “tidy up Miss Granger, but Tizzy?”

“Yes, master?”

“No cleansing charms.”

Hermione covered her face with her hands and groaned in embarrassment. 

Lucius just looked smug as he took his leave, promising to meet her in the entryway when she’d been refreshed.

* * *

Lucius and Hermione arrived at La Mistral perfectly groomed and highly poised. The only hint to her heightened arousal was the lovely blush in her cheeks. The restaurant was an elegant little showcase of lush decor and flickering candlelight. 

They were escorted to an intimate semi circular booth with a nice view out of the window into the courtyard beyond. Hermione had become mostly used to the feel of the ben wa balls inside her thought she felt a fresh stirring as she settled into her seat. With a little more time she was better able to notice that the tenor of the inaudible hum emitting from them seemed to change when Lucius was near. It seemed more excited, somehow. 

They ordered and had just started to enjoy the wine when Hermione started to ask how the orbs would be used in the next ritual when she abruptly fell silent, her hand resting on the table top clenching into a fist as the pleasant hum ratcheted up to a steady vibration. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she felt Lucius take her hand from the table and sooth her fingers out of their clenched position. She met his eyes and knew immediately he was responsible for the sudden change. She leaned towards him and demanded, “what did you do Lucius?!”

“What? This?” Lucius asked innocently as she felt the jangle of the magic stored in the balls increase.

“Yes! Yes, exactly that!”

Lucius tutted and patted her hand, “this is how they work, mon lion. As your arousal grows, as you begin to simmer in sweet frustration the power builds. Every brush of my magic against yours, every touch of our skin and it builds. My...contribution simply ensures that no other could rouse your passions during the charging.

It was a bit of a relief that she couldn’t be affected like this by some other man in the room. But it certainly put her on edge, wondering if anyone noticed something amiss with her. 

As each course came and went Lucius remained an attentive dinner partner, touching her hand, brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes, dabbing a smudge of cream sauce from her lip. From the outside each action likely looked romantic but within Hermione her desire had gone into full bloom, each touch increasing the feeling of his presence within her. At one point she began to shift but Lucius gripped her thigh beneath the table and leaned into her to caution her, “if you move about too much my dear you may dislodge the balls just enough to let my spend escape.” Behind the cover of his hair he dared a quick lick to her ear before he continued, “it wouldn’t reduce the amount of power we will be able to store at this point, but I must admit, I’m a possessive man, it’s giving me great pleasure to know you’re sitting there primly, acting the perfect lady while your sweet little cunt is full of my come.” Lucius chuckled darkly at her gasp, “easy, love, I have you. Here, have another bite of dessert.”

Hermione felt like a woman on the edge, “please Lucius,” she begged, “please take me home and make me come.”

Lucius hummed and rolled his magic, stimulating the balls within her. Hermione gasped loudly and had to try to pass it off as a sneeze. He took in her heightened color, her shortened breath, and her glazed eyes and concluded they’d likely stored enough power. “All right, my sweet, let go.” He quickly settled up the bill while Hermione waited in uncharacteristic silence. When he stood and helped her rise from the seat he had to keep a hand under her elbow to steady her sway. 

They left the restaurant quickly, heading straight to an alley secluded enough to apparate from. Lucius was grateful for the privileges of the lord of the manner as he apparated them directly into Hermione’s room. As soon as they landed Hermione plastered herself against him, urging him to touch her, to release her. 

Lucius tried to sooth her as he laid her back gently against her coverlet and rucked up her skirts for the second time that evening. He quickly pulled off her panties, tossing them somewhere behind him before he cupped her drenched vulva and then pushed two fingers into her swollen depths. He thrust his fingers into her in a rising tempo, each forward motion jarring the enamel balls causing her to let out desperate little screams. “There you are, you’ve been such a good girl for me, I want you to come now,” Lucius breathed into her ear, never letting up on his rhythm. 

With that Hermione’s climax began with deep clenching at her center, spreading outward, causing her back to arch, her toes to curl, and a high pitched scream to leave her throat. The pleasure persisted for some moments before it snapped back inward, like a video in reverse. All the pent up desire and pleasure of the evening leached from her exhausted body and coalesced within the orbs. The sudden drain caused Hermione to lose her battle with consciousness, leaving Lucius relieved that he wouldn’t have to answer any questions until the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments and kudos, you guys are the absolute best!  
> Xoxo ~ Gal


	7. Revelations

> A New Golden Couple 
> 
> _By Daily Prophet society writer Vanity Judson_
> 
> Golden Girl Hermione Granger was seen out at La Mistral with none other than the luscious Lord Lucius Malfoy. 
> 
> Miss Granger, muggleborn war heroine, best friend of Harry Potter, and Brightest Witch of Her Age was seen this Friday evening getting very cozy with our favorite bad boy Lord Lucius Malfoy. The two sat closely throughout the intimate meal whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. The romance continued as Lord Malfoy fed bites of La Mistral’s incomparable creme brûlée to the lovely Miss Granger. Miss Granger certainly looked like the cat who got the cream as Lord Malfoy solicitously guided her from the restaurant at the end of their meal.
> 
> Miss Granger was wearing a stunning gown of the richest blue set off by what looked to this reporter like the Malfoy sapphires. The gown was a new creation from the celebrated modiste Belle Deschamps, who is, perhaps not coincidentally, also Narcissa Malfoy’s preferred designer. We have to wonder if Lady Malfoy has had a hand in Miss Granger’s new wardrobe.
> 
> _For the Malfoy family’s latest charitable contributions see page 4, for Malfoy supported equality measures in the Wizengamot see page 6_

> A Malfoy Mistress At Last? 
> 
> _By Wizarding World Times special political correspondent Jessica Jones_
> 
> Spotted out last night for an intimate dinner was political powerhouse Lord Lucius Malfoy and media darling Hermione Granger. While a personal connection between Miss Granger and the Malfoy family will likely add stability to the current post-war political climate there is also a chance that there is greater change around the corner. 
> 
> Lord Malfoy has been steering the traditionalist faction in the Wizengamot towards a slightly more liberal bent with measures that will reduce restrictions on half-blood members sitting on family seats of the august body. Establishing a relationship with a muggle born witch could be a further signal of a move in Lord Malfoy’s attitude towards a more inclusive mindset.
> 
> As Lord Malfoy and Miss Granger left the exclusive La Mistral our keen eyed reporter noticed that draped around the lovely Miss Granger’s neck were the Malfoy sapphires, hinting very strongly that an accord has been reached between Miss Granger and the Malfoy family.
> 
> It has been some years since the last Malfoy Mistress, Gwendolyn Malfoy neé Urquhart, became a part of the Malfoy family in 1807. Not much is known about Mistress Malfoy’s incorporation into the family other than what is in publicly available records. We can confirm Mistress Gwendolyn Malfoy bore the Malfoy patriarch several children who were legally considered Malfoys and who were able to inherit Malfoy assets when said patriarch crossed the veil in 1870.
> 
> As with most family magic the details are shrouded in mystery, however we can report that not all Malfoy Mistresses have been brought into the family so there is no way to know whether or not Miss Granger will become Mistress Hermione Malfoy. If the esteemable Miss Granger became a Malfoy, Lord, Lady, and Mistress Malfoy would enter a most formidable partnership. With Lord and Lady Malfoy’s power and means and Miss Granger’s social and political star rising there’s a very good chance that they will be a force to be reckoned with in the upcoming Wizengamot session.

* * *

In a chateau in Provence a cool blond pursued the English language papers and smiled. Things were moving along with Miss Granger. It was time to head home. 

* * *

_Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor_

Hermione Granger stormed into Lucius’ study, clutching a handful of newspapers in her fist, the smell of smoke in the air. She slammed the newsprint on his desk as Lucius watched apprehensively as a single curl of smoke rose from the paper unnoticed by the fuming witch.

“What,” Hermione demanded through clenched teeth, “is going on here?! What aren’t you telling me?”

“Now, let’s be calm about this...” Lucius started to say before being rudely interrupted.

“You will not tell me to be calm Lucius Malfoy, you will tell me what you’ve been plotting before I start setting fires!”

Lucius tried to unobtrusively ease back from his desk while lightly patting out another spark that fell to the paper. It seemed to him more a warning than a threat, it did not look like she had much control of the sparks at the moment. “Please! My dear, please have a seat and I will answer all of your questions, just try to rein in your power,”

Hermione took a deep breath, unclenched her fingers to release the newspapers and dropped into the chair across from his desk. “Speak,” she gritted with a terse go ahead gesture.

Lucius smoothed out the newspapers on his desk and ventured, “the puff piece or the politics?”

Hermione snorted indelicately, “please, they’re both politics,” before she relented, “start with the puff piece.”

Lucius nodded, allowing her point to stand, she was right, it was all politics. “As you know, the Malfoy family’s reputation took a serious hit in the aftermath of the war. The testimony provided by yourself and others kept us from prison but we do not enjoy the same influence we once did due to the unpopularity of our perceived prejudices. An intimate association with you, a prominent muggleborn, will do much to make others give us the benefit of the doubt. Personally speaking, you are a beautiful woman of great power and passion and it has been my absolute pleasure to have your delectable body beneath mine, but I will admit to dual motives on this front.”

Lucius was relieved to see fewer sparks coming off of her though he thought he detected a hint of hurt lurking in her eyes. 

Hermione allowed herself the bluntness she’d shied away from in their previous discussion and prompted, “that’s not all Lucius, tell me the rest about this Malfoy Mistress business. It’s obvious you’re hiding something from me; I need to know what your endgame is before I agree to the maîtresse magique ritual. What else are you getting out of this?”

Lucius’ eyes flicked briefly to the newspapers, checking for smoke, before meeting her gaze again and continuing, “regarding the position of the Malfoy Mistress, the article is mostly correct. Although they failed to uncover that Mistress Gwendolyn Malfoy did not change her name or become a permanent part of the family until she and my ancestor performed the ritual for the third stage, maîtresse famille. I swear, I did not lie to you. The magics needed to help your parents will be accessible to you after we perform the maîtresse magique ritual, which,” he continued placatingly, “is not permanent. Yes, there is another ritual to break the bond, and it is unpleasant, as endings always are, but it is not prohibitively difficult or painful. As for what else I get out of it? Surely you feel it? The tightening bond, the rising tide of our combined powers?” He spoke as if he were savoring a fine wine.

Hermione considered and closed her eyes, focusing inwards, “I can feel that our bond has grown closer, the...feedback loop of our pleasure seems to be getting stronger. But pure magical power,” she shook her head and opened her eyes, “I don’t know that I’ve been paying enough attention…”

Lucius nodded and smirked at her, “would you like to do a little experiment?” His smirk grew wider at Hermione’s skeptical look, “a real experiment, Merlin scout’s honor.”

Hermione’s lips twitched but she gestured for him to continue.

“Have you managed wandless magic yet, my sweet?” At her head shake, he leaned forward in his chair and asked, “would you like to try?”

Hermione bit her lip, looking sorely tempted, “what did you have in mind?”

* * *

That evening after dinner Lucius poured them each a glass of Ogdens Reserve before ambling over to the sitting area in front of the fireplace. He set their glasses down and reclined against the far armrest, stretching his legs along the sofa and then spreading them slightly so Hermione could snuggle between his thighs, her back against his chest, his arms slung gently around her. Hermione captured one of his hands to twine their fingers together and reached for her magic. Bolstered by the connection to Lucius and the power they generated together, they recreated the success of their earlier experiment and lit the fire wandlessly. The pleasure of their combined magic rushing through their bodies stimulated a pleasant heat in the blood. 

After Hermione released Lucius’s hand he moved one to her stomach and reached out with the other to snag first her glass and then his own. They settled in front of the cozy fire, watching the dancing flames and enjoying the pleasant hum from every point of contact along their bodies. They felt tension they hadn’t known was building up throughout the day slowly drain from them.

Lucius began speaking, something in his tone caused Hermione to fear they’d be getting at least some of that tension back. “I believe I mentioned that Draco is engaged to Astoria Greengrass.” At Hermione’s hum of agreement he continued, “she’s a lovely girl, she was a year behind you at Hogwarts. Draco is head over heels in love. We had to dissolve the betrothal contract with the Parkinson chit but at least he is happy.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head and tightened his hold on her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit like a substitute teddy bear. “This cannot be repeated,” he waited for her agreement before continuing, “Astoria has fallen victim to a blood curse that has been plaguing the Greengrass line for some generations. These days the condition is manageable with the appropriate potions and charms, but… she cannot carry a child to term, if the pregnancy does not kill her the labor will.”

Hermione gasped in horror, “I’m so sorry! That must be devastating for them both.”

Hermione felt Lucius nod against her head, “yes, he is terrified of losing her. On one hand I am so glad he found love and happiness, on the other, I…I fear what that kind of loss would do to him. He does not need any more burdens, he has that damn mark on his arm because of me, and Merlin, we worried that he would spend his life paying for our mistakes, that he might miss out on so much, and now this. I will not allow the demands of our family to steal this from him as well. I will do everything in my power to ensure he is not robbed of his future.”

Hermione considered, “is that why you’re pushing so hard to rehabilitate the Malfoy image?”

Lucius hesitated, taking a sip from his glass and absently stroking his thumb along the dip of Hermione’s waist, “I need to do this for Draco and our future descendants.”

Finally, the pattern coalesced. Hermione’s brain, previously more preoccupied with the man surrounding her, focused in on several critical details. What had been partial shapes and colors, unconnected to the larger whole, began to align themselves into an image. “Lucius, if Astoria can’t have children, who will carry those future descendants?” 

Hermione felt Lucius’ go still for a moment, she waited, knowing his answer would bring the picture into perfect focus.

“You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter! 
> 
> It took me a while to get all of my plot points to line up properly, so hopefully it was worth the wait! I think I may need a beta, my cat was not helpful in making editing decisions.
> 
> I hope you’re all staying safe and well!  
> Xoxo ~Gal


	8. Questions and Some Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, please mind the tags, they’ve been updated!

* * *

Late the next evening Hermione sat in the library, a Malfoy grimoire in her lap, gaze unfocused, as words swirled and twisted on the page, mimicking her chaotic thoughts. With Lucius’ declaration she had finally felt the adjustment of her thread in the weft and weave of the world and wondered how she had missed the shift. She was being woven according to someone else’s pattern once again. She had thought, had hoped, that her deepening connection with Lucius was a sign they would soon be ready for the maîtresse magique ritual, but after last night’s bombshell she was obviously having some misgivings, it seemed the book knew it too. 

Had she willfully ignored the signs that there was more to this arrangement than she had originally understood? She hated to think that she’d blocked out inconvenient facts because they ran counter to her goals. She had always been single minded, but not usually at the expense of logic. Even now, with her mind full of doubts, what she was doing with Lucius felt right. With Lucius she felt content and cared for, she had never been in a more emotionally engaged relationship. The magic was perhaps the greatest reward so far. Her magic, that she had loved from the first moment she felt it spark within her, that she had nurtured and challenged as she grew, that she never regretted, even in the depths of the war, her magic was flourishing. Her magic felt so alive here, and if it could speak she thought it would be telling her to stay, to take this family magic into herself and never let it go. She groaned and rubbed her forehead, anthropomorphising her magic was _not_ a good sign.

This was how Narcissa Malfoy found her, head in her hand, struggling against the thoughts that came upon her, wave after wave, and knowing she was farther from understanding than she had been when she started.

“Good evening, Miss Granger.”

Hermione’s head snapped towards the cultured voice, her face filling with trepidation, “good evening, Lady Malfoy.” Good manners having rescued her when her brain had deserted her.

Regardless of what Lucius had said about Narcissa’s opinion, Hermione felt like a trespasser in the stately witch’s presence. Hermione closed the book and made to stand before Narcissa stopped her, “no, no, stay seated. I think we could both do with some tea.” The Lady of the manor snapped her fingers and a tea tray appeared on the table before her. Narcissa settled onto a chair offset from the sofa Hermione was occupying and began to pour. Hermione grumbled inwardly at the evidence that the perfect Narcissa Malfoy had obviously followed the rules about keeping beverages away from the books. At least the comforting ritual of fixing and distributing tea soothed Hermione and having something to keep her hands busy reduced her fidgeting. 

Narcissa studied the younger witch above her tea cup, debated internally, and decided on the direct approach for the Gryffindor alumna. “Lucius said he told you about Draco and Astoria last night.”

Hermione signed out in relief, so glad that she didn’t need to dance around the topic. “Yes! And honestly I don’t know what to think! I thought things were going so well, we were on our way to finalizing the maîtresse magique bond and I understood what this all was. Then last night Lucius brings up this third bond, the maîtresse famille,” Hermione growled the last two words as if they’d personally offended her, “it’s another matter entirely. So now, I have no idea what this is or if it’s what I want or need. I’m just...so confused...and angry.” Hermione’s litany finally ended and she looked at Narcissa expectantly, it was difficult to tell if she was hoping for solutions to her problems or a sympathetic ear.

Narcissa considered the contents of Hermione’s outburst and tried to get to the heart of the issue without giving offense, though she thought perhaps the problem was the young witch, for all her planning during the war, had not made a plan for _after_ the war. “For a moment, forget about being the Malfoy Mistress and tell me, what do you want out of your life? Whether it is In the next few years, in the next decade, or in the next century.”

Hermione tried to clear away the thoughts and emotions that had been plaguing her all day and focused on Narcissa’s question. “First and foremost I need to return my parents’ memories. After that…I suppose I want what most people want,” she looked at her lap while picking absently at her skirt, “I want love, a family, a rewarding career. I want to make a difference in the wizarding world but I don’t want to chain myself to a desk in the bowels of the ministry to do it.”

Narcissa nodded her head thoughtfully, “now tell me, which of those goals are incompatible with the situation you find yourself in now?”

Hermione stared back at Narcissa incredulously, was the witch having a break from reality? She didn’t know where to start listing all of the ways this whole situation was complete madness.

At Hermione’s apparent inability to answer her question, Narcissa ticked through the list herself. “As you’ve already discussed with Lucius, after the maîtresse magique ritual you shall hopefully be able to recover your parents as you knew them. If you agree to the final ritual, the maîtresse famille, and bind yourself to our family, I can assure you Lucius is a very lovable man and I think he could be an excellent romantic partner for you. If you are seeking a family, you would certainly have that if you joined ours. Finally, with the Malfoy resources and power behind you, there are nearly unlimited opportunities to influence society and the government. You could freely choose whatever passion projects you would like to pursue, without the need to worry about paying the bills. Honestly, my dear, I am failing to see any down sides.”

Hermione knew, just knew that she had some gormless look on her face after that explanation. “You..fail to see any downsides!” Hermione’s voice had definitely risen above a ladylike tone on that exclamation. She winced a bit at her lapse in manners but in the end fell back on the protective shield of sarcasm when it seemed her concerns weren’t being understood. “Oh yes, there are absolutely no downsides to binding myself to a married man and agreeing to be his piece on the side for an indeterminate amount of time while I pop out a couple of kids for the continuation of the Malfoy line. It’s totally fine, you’re absolutely right, I’m obviously being silly.”

Narcissa’s lips twitched as though fighting back a laugh. Hermione growled again, little tendrils of smoke twisting between her curls. Narcissa hastily schooled her features into a more serious mein and rushed to reassure the younger witch, “I am not laughing at you dear.” She gestured vaguely in a sweeping away motion and refocused. “Let us address your concerns.”

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth in agitation before she looked at Narcissa again, a little uncertain, “shouldn’t I be addressing my concerns with Lucius?”

Narcissa arched her eyebrow sardonically.

Hermione huffed in apparent frustration slumped back on the sette, “I know!” She threw her hands up in the air before continuing, “he just drops into casual conversation ‘oh Hermione, by the way, would you mind terribly if I knocked you up?’ no big deal, no asking what I want! I just got so angry and I couldn’t bear the thought of fighting with him again and I just...ran.”

Narcissa‘s mouth set in a little moue of disapproval, “he certainly botched the proposal, I should not have left it to him.” Before Hermione could question that intriguing statement Narcissa leaned forward and brushed a curl away from Hermione’s face and tutted, “Do not give yourself a hard time for running, it is the sympathetic magic of the maîtresse bond working on you both, it discourages violent arguments. You would have felt an urgent need to get away before you could get into a fight in the state you were in.” Narcissa correctly interpreted Hermione’s worried look, “it merely separates you for a time if it senses the argument would be damaging either emotionally or physically for either of you; it does not change how you feel or think. I have found it improves communication, you are given space to calm yourself so you can more clearly explain what is bothering you.” Narcissa smirked, “It is much more productive than yelling, though not nearly as satisfying, especially when he simply blurts things out like he was hit with a blathering jinx.”

Hermione giggled a bit and nodded before straightening in her seat and meeting Narcissa’s eyes steadily, “I think it would help if I could discuss some of my concerns with you, if that’s alright, I’m not really sure what our relationship is supposed to be like with all of this…” Hermione trailed off uncertain of how to describe all of this.

Narcissa took pity on the younger witch and nodded decisively, “perhaps that is a good place to start. You are apprehensive about being bound to a married man, correct?” At Hermione’s confirmation Narcissa continued, “Lucius, I think, told you that I requested he seek out others for certain needs.” She continued her explanation, looking a little unconfortable at sharing intimate details of her marriage with a near stranger, “I have never been interested in sexual relations, with Lucius, or anyone else for that matter. When we were younger and newly married I tried to engage in that sort of relationship with Lucius because I loved him, it was expected of me, and I hoped that if I worked at it I would feel the excitement and desire my friends described when whispering about their marriage beds. Lucius However, could tell that something was wrong, that any passion I tried to bring into our bed was acting on my part. We talked, we experimented with different approaches, we seduced a woman to see if perhaps it was women I desired.” Narcissa eyes sparkled with mischief at Hermione’s surprised look, “He was trying so hard to understand what I needed, what he could do to make me feel comfortable with him, with sex. But I...there was nothing he or anyone could do, that sort of desire, that sort of fire is not in me.” Seeing Hermione’s confusion, Narcissa held up a cupped palm that filled steadily with water, “in this, I am a still pond, there are no hidden springs or eddies.” Narcissa smiled, a small and genuine thing, then flexed and flattened her fingers briefly, the water disappearing into the air, as if it had never been, “we continued until we conceived my Draco, we both so wanted to be parents. But that was the last time, after Draco we agreed we would stop and he would need to fill that need with someone else.”

Hermione struggled to understand, how could anyone have Lucius in their bed and not want to ravage him? Although, she also didn’t understand how anyone could see chocolate cake and not want to devour it. Hermione smirked, more dessert for her. 

She tried to restrain her general curiosity and consider what questions were relevant to her situation, she didn’t know Narcissa all that well and didn’t want to pry into personal matters that didn’t involve her. “So, you are fine with Lucius having...sex with me? Having a relationship with me?”

Narcissa smiled, her teeth glinting sharply like the steel at her core, “if I had a problem with it, I promise you, you would not be here.”

Hermione couldn’t help but shiver a bit at her tone, Narcissa Malfoy was not a witch to cross. 

Hermione shook herself from her unpleasant consideration of what would happen to her if she got on Narcissa’s bad side and all the other complicated emotions and worries she still needed to untangle, feeling exhausted. She tried for a brisk tone, “Right, well, it’s been quite a long day, I’m off to bed.” She rose from her seat and on impulse leaned down and hugged the other witch, “Goodnight Narcissa, and thank you, for everything.”

Hermione left the library and walked through the maze of hallways, heading for her room, more than ready to sleep but finding little enthusiasm within her for crawling between cold sheets and spending the night alone. She puttered about her suite, performing her evening ablutions and pulling on a simple but still beautiful nightgown, there were no more holey t-shirts or ratty sweats in her closet. While she brushed her teeth she looked into her mirror at the empty bed reflected behind her and made a decision. She spit out the foam and rinsed out her mouth before she lowered the lights and left the room for the one next door.

She cracked open the door and watched as a strip of light from the hallway penetrated into the room briefly before she hurriedly entered and shut the door behind her, lest she wake the occupant sleeping with his back to her. She walked softly up to his bed and admired the defined muscles of his upper back and shoulders visible above the horizon line of the coverlet before lifting the corner and slipping across his sinfully smooth sheets until she could snuggle up behind him and drape her arm around his torso. Lucius mumbled sleepily, “Hermione?” 

She sighed a little and dropped a kiss onto his shoulder blade, “I’m still mad at you.”

Lucius turned in her arms and lifted his hand brushing the backs of his knuckles over the tops of her breast cresting above the neckline of black lace. His hand traveled lower, his knuckles brushing back and forth across her nipple before pinching the tip between them. The hum of Lucius’ magic seemed to permeate her body, causing Hermione to gasp in pleasure. Lucius removed his hand and sucked the peaked nipple into his mouth through the silk and lace of her nightgown, “how angry?” He murmured. “Angry enough to deny me?” He then brought his teeth together around her nipple and pulled, the suction and the bite of pain arching Hermione’s back and causing the previously gently rising arousal to catapult into a flash flood. 

Hermione took a little spark of the magic they had cycling between them and used it to light the candles around the bed, Lucius was so rawly masculine it always enhanced her pleasure to be able to see his strong body as it covered her and watch the passion turn his eyes from frost grey to quicksilver. She lifted her hand to the back of his neck, shifting her fingers upwards across his scalp to grip his silky hair in her fist and keep him pressed to her breast. “Never. Merlin, as long as you can make me feel like this I can’t deny you anything.” 

Lucius growled against her, Hermione could feel the sound vibrate in her flesh as he closed his teeth around its nub before abruptly releasing his hold and manhandling her onto her knees, he pressed her shoulders and head down into the mattress, her hips in the air. Her nightgown slipped down to settle at her shoulders, pulled by gravity and the slide of silk on skin. Lucius kneeled upright behind her taking in the delicious sight of her round upturned ass. 

With one hand he sunk two fingers into her tight snatch while he used the other to smack each cheek in quick succession with his open palm, making her flesh jiggle, the sting spearing straight to her clit. Hermione tried to drag in a couple of breaths after that brief assault as Lucius removed his hand from her slick sheath and shifted his shorts down past his manhood to allow them to pool at his knees. He took his now aching erection and slid the head back and forth between her lips, getting it slick and shiny in her juices. The gentle movements were then followed by sharp taps of the head against her clit, Hermione couldn’t hold back her moan at the dirty image that painted in her mind of him slapping her pussy with his hard cock.

Lucius took her last moan as the invitation it was and resettled the head of his cock in her channel, as soon as he was correctly aligned he pushed forward, tunneling through her tight walls, dragging against her g-spot, and bottoming out within her. He watched his cock shuttling in and out of her before allowing his gaze to roam upwards towards her other hole, sweetly on display in this position. He used his still slick fingers to start brushing back and forth over it to judge her reaction. She did not disappoint, her pussy clamped down and her body jerked in his hold, causing a feral grin spreading across his face. “Hmm, do you like that pet?” He slicked up his thumb in her prodigious lubrication and started swirling it around her furled opening. When he pressed on it without sinking in her asshole twitched, almost as if it wanted to suck him in. 

“You are a dirty girl, look at your little greedy little hole, desperate to be filled,” he pushed harder with his thumb so it snugged within her back channel and started wiggling his hand with each thrust. He chuckled as her flesh quivered around both his cock and his thumb, “such a good girl, taking my thumb up your arse so sweetly. Are you going to let me ream this tight hole like a good little slut?” At her incoherent moan he started pounding harder into both holes. He twisted his hand so his palm and fingers pressed into her ass above her hole, his thumb still hooked inside her. He began pulling firmly upward with each thrust. “There you go baby, take it, take everything I give you. I think you are the wettest I have ever felt you, you really love to have your ass played with, hmm?” 

When Hermione failed to answer verbally Lucius reached forward and grabbed her hair, wrenching her head to the side so he could see her eyes, “tell me,” Lucius growled. 

Hermione cried out as his shift forward changed angle and the sharp tug on her hair seemed to blend the pain into pleasure and panted desperately, “yessss, yes I love it.” 

“Ask me to play with your hole, beg me to get you ready.”

“Please Lucius, please play with my arse, please get me ready for your cock.”

Lucius grunted as her words impacted him, “oh pet, you only had to ask. I promise, I will make you beg for it before I take you here.” He emphasized his intentions by twisting his thumb. “You will be so desperate for my cock up your arse. I am going to fuck you so hard you will not be able to sit for a week. But not to fret baby, I will make sure you like it, you will come so many times with my cock up your ass you might come to prefer it over your pussy. I will train you to crave it, my perfect little sex kitten.”

The combination of his filthy words and the twin sensations of his cock and thumb all ganged up on Hermione to spin her lust out of control, each thrust forcing another scream from her body until the pleasure peaked within her. As the orgasm flowed through her she felt Lucius’ rhythm stutter and still to small pulses forward as he emptied his seed into her sex. He stayed that way for a moment as they both came down from the high, before he gently withdrew his thumb and muttered a quick wandless cleansing charm on his hands. He leaned his body carefully forward, flattening them both to the bed before gripping her around her hips and chest and rolling them to their sides, taking care so his softening cock remained lodged inside her. She liked feeling him still inside her, as though he couldn’t get enough of her, even after he’d just come.

Once they’d settled comfortably Lucius rubbed her arm and reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed each of her knuckles before lowering their hands back down in front of her stomach. Neither of them spoke as he shifted aside her hair and buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply with a contented little hum. Hermione rubbed her thumb back and forth across his knuckles and soon his breathing evened out into sleep. Something within Hermione relaxed at his small sweet gestures after their fairly raunchy sex. They had the beginning of something between them, they’d talk tomorrow to see if it could be more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do my research so I could portray Narcissa believably and respectfully as an asexual character. If you feel I’ve missed the mark on either of those fronts please let me know!


	9. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short but I’m struggling with the next ritual and wanted to put something out today. I’m so close to going “that was a nice ritual wasn’t it?” “Yes, very.” and moving right along, lol. Thank you for all of your kind words and patience with my hiatus and writer’s block. Happy 4th to my fellow young, scrappy, and hungry.  
> ~Gal

Hermione awoke to heathered dawn sunlight spilling over the coverlet and glinting off of the gilt accents on the walls and soft kisses to her shoulder. She reached down and captured the hand Lucius had splayed across her stomach to link with her own. She thought about how to address the hippogriff in the room while she absently played with his fingers. She decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to have a small distraction and a bit of English civility so she called Tizzy to bring a tea tray.

Lucius, obviously taking the hint that tea meant a long overdue conversation, rearranged the pillows and propped them both up against the headboard while the tea was fetched. 

Hermione thanked the elf and poured, holding her tongue until she had something to occupy her hands that wasn’t running them over Lucius’ mesmerizing muscles. She took a drink in a somewhat desperate hope that caffeine would make this any tiny bit easier, it didn’t. 

“So, was my becoming maîtresse famille your plan from the beginning? You could have chosen any witch in Britain; they would have fallen at your feet to become a Malfoy, to join your family. Why choose me?”

Lucius also seemed to be using his teacup as a particularly British crutch, worrying the handle while framing his answer. “I will not lie to you and say this possibility did not occur to me when we first discussed the problem of your parents’ memories, but it was also not my primary goal. 

“There are...stains on our magic from the war, things that an aquitial by the Wizengamot cannot wash clean. What happened to you here is but one of many travisties that occurred while that monster squatted in our home. I am not certain if you would have been able to tell with all of the other evil surrounding you but my gods the taint of it was horrendous, it still clings, even months after his death. Magic is a balance, you see, if you do not maintain the balance it will be maintained for you, and you will not find it enjoyable. 

“So to find you on my doorstep, one so wronged by my house, it seemed a sign at the very least. Perhaps if we could help fix what was broken it would be a chance to balance the scales. There is a symmetry in the Malfoy magic helping to restore some of what the war stole from you.”

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him, “but that was not your only motivation.”

Lucius smiled down at her, a little proudly it seemed, “we’ll make a Slytherin of you yet. No pet, it was not the only motivation. The good publicity of a public alignment with you, even a temporary one, will go a long way to soothing concerns and moderating our reputation.” His smile was very self satisfied.

“Not to mention I was truly desperate to have you. All of this fire and fierceness that burns within you, I challenge any red blooded wizard, let alone an air aligned wizard, to feel your heat and not wish to see how high he could fan your flame.”

Hermione breathed in and out slowly, working to keep her focus in the face of the tingles that raced through her body with his confession. “What about the heirs? How can that possibly be a good idea?”

Lucius set down first his cup and then took her cup to discard as well. “The final ritual, the maîtresse famille, was but a...possibility when we first spoke. The Malfoys need this, we cannot afford to leave our family legacy to chance, to lose the magic that has run in our veins for millennia. The magical world has already lost so much magic to the fade. I cannot deny our responsibility in that but I will not compound it by allowing one more bloodline to die out.

“So there you were, handing me so many things that we needed and allowing me several that I wanted,” he added with a leer. “I could not help but wonder, how much of the balance would be restored through you? To return what was lost would certainly lighten the shadows but could you also be what we needed to balance some of the death? Might you also bring life?”

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears, he spoke so reverently about her, about the role she could play. The image he built was so alluring. She had lived through so much destruction, had suffered so many losses, it soothed something in her to think that perhaps this was meant. That possibly this was magic balancing the scales. She sniffed a little and gratefully accepted the monogrammed handkerchief he pressed into her hand and nodded. “I’m not sure about the third ritual and the,” Hermione waved the handkerchief vaguely, “baby thing. But I think, I feel, we’re ready to do the maîtresse magique ritual, aren’t we?”

Lucius took the handkerchief back and dabbed gently at her eyes, searching them for something. He must have found it. “Yes, I think we’re ready for the next step.”

* * *

A few days later Hermione prepared for the maîtresse magique ritual with far more calm than she had for the maîtresse physique ritual. She understood the path they were on and how the ritual would advance their relationship and allow her to tap the family magic to help her parents. She had been making arrangements with Australian officials to have her parents brought back to the UK on some manufactured pretext so she could restore them as soon as possible. She tried not to worry about what their reaction would be once they understood what she had done, when they understood what their safety had cost them.

Just as last time, Tizzy helped Hermione step into a cleansing bath, though this time she had more of her typical curiosity about what else was in the bath with her. She saw rose petals and lavender in the milky water and felt like she was the final ingredient in a potion as she settled in. At least the other components were pleasant, she didn’t know if she could have gotten in with bat eyes and rat spleens. She watched with interest as Tizzy swirled a finger twice clockwise through the floating herbs and flowers to promote their efficacy. Hermione allowed herself to float away into blissful relaxation, the bath enhanced by the soothing plinking of fat summer rain drops against the leaded windows. 

Unlike last time, when Hermione finally pulled herself from the bath and left the bathroom Narcissa was perched on a chair that had been arranged near the vanity. Hermione stopped short in surprise but then kept going, not wanting to seem unwelcoming. “Narcissa, what are you doing here?” Hermione winced, so much for not seeming unwelcoming. “I mean, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Narcissa smiled at her gaff and rose gracefully to lightly embrace Hermione and buss her cheek with an air kiss. “How are you, dear?” She queried, “are you excited for the ritual tonight?”

Hermione blushed, it seemed so odd to her to be talking about a sex magic ritual she would be performing with her lover, with said lover’s wife. “Yes, well no, well mostly yes.” She grinned sheepishly and rubbed her hands over her face in mild embarrassment for both the topic and who she was discussing it with. She sank onto the bench in front of her vanity and stared absently at her reflection. “I’m interested in seeing how the magic behaves during and after the ritual and of course being able to make the attempt of recovering my parents’ memories, but I won’t lie, I’m nervous too…” 

“There is nothing to be nervous about,” Narcissa reassured, as she moved behind Hermione and stroked a hand comfortingly down her hair, “unless you are feeling uneasy? If you are not ready for this you would be feeling a rising unease, a sense of wrongness and you should stop the preparations at once.” At Hermione’s attestment that she was simply nervous, Narcissa smiled slightly and continued, “Good, in that case, the ritual should bring you more power and the clarity to use it well. The magic will not lead you astray, trust in it.”

“That being said, there will also be more demands upon you once you have completed the next ritual. Any witch with integrity can be loyal in word and deed and that is all that can be asked at the maîtresse physique stage. However, as your connection with Lucius grew your magics entwined and you developed a certain loyalty of mind, which will allow the ritual for maîtresse magique to take hold tonight. The family magic is protective, you see, it will not accept anyone who is less than wholly committed.”

Narcissa, seeing Hermione’s determination to move forward in the stubborn set of her chin, rested her hands on the younger witch’s shoulders, giving them a light squeeze and nodding her silent approval. “I will leave you in Tizzy’s capable hands, Lucius should be by for you shortly, good luck.”


	10. Maîtresse Magique

Lucius knocked on her door to escort her to the standing stones some minutes later as Tizzy was completing her hair. He met her eyes, the look he gave her locking her muscles in place with its intensity, and held out his hand to her. Hermione had to will movement back into her limbs in order to cross the room and grasp his outstretched hand. The everpresent spark between them seemed to have strengthened, causing a jolt to go through them as though they’d been building up a static charge. As the current raced between them Lucius grasp tightened reflexively for a moment before loosening but he did not relinquish her hand. 

Lucius brought Hermione over to the seating area in front of the fireplace, settling himself on an armless upholstered chair perpendicular to the fire and directed her over his lap. Hermione hung over his legs, her arse piked in the air and her hair tumbling down to the ground, shielding everything in the room from her sight but the legs of her lover and the chair and fire roaring in the grate. As she watched the curls of flame began to twist and dance with more energy, tendrils twining together and springing apart. Lucius adjusted the white linen gown, folding and tucking it under her hips and admired the way the flames danced across Hermione’s skin and the globes of her ass like a lover's caress. He barely brushed her flame kissed skin with the planes of his hands, adding more pressure with each pass until he was gripping them firmly and squeezing each cheek and pulling them apart so she felt the stretch in her back hole. 

He slid his fingers through the moisture gathering in her channel and slowly dragged it upward swirling around her rim, spiraling closer and closer to the center. 

Hermione’s voice, slightly muffled by her face being pressed to his leg, was questioning “Lucius?”

“Do you recall the Ben Wa balls that we charged?” as he spoke his fingers remained busy, gathering moisture and sliding it backwards working first one finger and then two into her back passage.

“Y-yes…” Hermione stuttered, the stretch still felt a little foreign, the previously ignored nerve endings tingled pleasurably. It felt naughty and a bit humiliating to be turned over this man’s knee, her body rocking back into his fingers of its own accord, as he calmly discussed the ritual to come. 

“There’s a good girl, keep fucking yourself on my fingers,” he rumbled. Hermione, not having quite realized the motions of her body, stilled as color suffused her face. Her cessation of movement earned her a smart smack across the bottom, “what did I just say? Keep going,” rapped out Lucius in a tone that matched his smack in sharpness. Hermione‘s cheeks burned as she carefully recommenced rolling her hips back into his fingers, soon falling into a rhythm once more.The overwhelming sensations overcame her shyness and embarrassment.

As Hermione continued and her breathing hitched Lucius began speaking again, “I had the balls turned into a nice little plug for you. Of course we could’ve just held the balls in our hands during the ritual tonight but I think you will find this to be a great deal more pleasurable,” he paused and she could hear the smirk in his voice as he continued, “and it is certainly more fun for me.” Hermione paused as he removed his fingers and she felt something slippery and cold pressed up against her pucker and pushed part of the way in, she felt a stretching sensation she’d first experienced with him the night of their fight. “Now keep going, I want you grinding this sweet little arse back against the plug. We are not leaving until it is inside you.”

Hermione seemed to be enjoying the first slender inch but she was hesitating to push it all the way in. Lucius, sensing her hesitation, continued to hold the plug steady with one hand while the other slid over her slick clit, pressing but holding still; if Hermione wanted stimulation there she would need to keep her hips moving forward into his steady fingers and back into the invading plug. 

The additional sensations helped to distract her body from the foreign feel of the plug and she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to relax, pushing out and rocking back into the plug, letting her ass swallow it little by little. Once it was settled all the way within her Lucius took the base and twisted it causing her to gasp. “What a good girl you are, taking the whole thing, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Lucius’ voice was gruff and somewhat strained as he ran his fingers down the cleft between her cheeks and around the base of the plug, obviously affected by the sight of her plugged bottom.

Hermione’s only response was to moan and grind her pussy into his hard thigh seeking the friction that had stopped when the plug was seated. Lucius tutted and gripped her by the hip and shoulder to help her stand up from his lap, causing Hermione to gasp again as the change position made her ass feel fuller. He grinned in appreciation of her predicament and pulled her into a hug that started soothing but swiftly changed to searing as he slid his hand down her back and arse to press on the base of the plug, the sudden sensation causing her to sway in his arms. He chuckled and took her hand tugging her towards the doorway to begin what felt like a long walk to the standing stones. As soon as they stepped out of the manor they were caught in the warm summer downpour, the rain soaking their white linen clothes rendering them transparent. 

Hermione spent much of the walk focused on the shifting feel within her as her hips rolled with each step. She was sure her gait was exaggerated but it intensified the feeling within her and was simply too delicious to pass up. They were nearly to the stones when Hermione’s commonsense kicked in and she said, “wait, why are we walking instead of apperating?”

Lucius smirked when he said, “because I wanted to watch you walk with the plug inside you, watch your arousal ratchet up higher and higher, so you knew with every step who controls your pleasure.” Lucius correctly read Hermione’s scowl and continued as they rounded the last bend and came up on the stones, “it is too late now mon lion, we’re here, sheathe your claws.” he bent down, kissed her cheek, and then lifted her up in his arms in a bridal carry, the arm beneath her pressed into her bottom, shifting the plug within as he crossed the boundary into the circle of standing stones.

Lucius sat her gently on the edge of the altar as he spread out the required accoutrements. The next ritual was very similar to the first as they were part of a series. Though the vows reflected the change in the connection. The fairies gathered around the stones and Hermione thought that perhaps there were more of them than had attended the first ritual. Were they there because they remembered the previous ritual? Did they sense a heightened power between herself and Lucius? The stones themselves seemed brighter to her eyes but she wasn’t certain if that was down to her greater attunement with the family magic or the power they had fed it at the previous ritual. 

They arranged themselves in the same positions as before, knees bent beneath them sitting on their heels. Lucius began holding his hands out between them cupping air, meeting Hermione’s eyes with smoldering intensity.“I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Viscount of Wiltshire and Patriarch of the Malfoy family, of my own free will, offer you the service of my body.” 

Hermione’s mind flashed to all the ways he had serviced her with his body and bit hard into her bottom lip to prevent the moan that wanted to escape her as a wave of those feelings flashed through her. She hurried to speak the next line, “I, Hermione Jean Granger of my own free will, offer you the service of my body.”

As they both joined the ritual and the magic started to rise around them a subtle vibration began in her ass and slowly ramped up until she was squirming on the altar. Lucius watched her with hooded eyes and barely concealed satisfaction as a slow rolling of her hips kept the plug shifting within her, the honey between her thighs growing. Hermione felt her desire rising, a feedback loop between the magic at her core, at Lucius’s, the power stored in the plug within her, and the steady thrum from the circle of stones surrounding them. All of these forces were driving her desire to a fever pitch, the power of it building unbearably. 

Hermione dragged her hands down her body, pausing to squeeze her breasts before allowing one hand to continue down and slide through her sodden folds. Lucius’ iron grip was suddenly manacled around her wrist, “ah, ah, ah darling, your pleasure belongs to me tonight, your body belongs to me.” Hermione growled in frustration while Lucius kissed the tip of her nose and then began leaning forward slowly pushing her backwards seeing the stutter in the rhythm of her hips as the angle caused the plug to shift within her. His strong fingers slid downward over her sex before spreading to expose her entrance where he centered the head of his eager cock and slowly pushed forward. With the addition of the plug the fit was much tighter than they were used to, requiring Lucius to introduce his member in a series of careful thrusts, each edging slightly deeper into her. 

When he was finally fully encased in her scorching sheath he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against hers, “I offer you the knowledge of my family.” Hermione gasped as her back arched, her arms spread out, her head fell back so she was staring outward with an inverted view of the glowing stones and dancing fairies. She felt that if it weren’t for Lucius’ cock anchored inside her she would be floating above the altar. She felt a rush of knowledge and heard the echo of forgotten tongues rise through her brain, the breeze of Lucius’ magic like a cool drink on a summer’s day.

Lucius felt her clench impossibly hard around him and clutched at her hair to pull her head back up so he could ravage her neck with lips and tongue and teeth, “you need to say the next line, love.” 

He felt her swallow heavily against his lips a few times before she rasped out, “I - I offer you the use of my talents.”

Lucius lifted his head to watch her make the vow and was enraptured by the fires that burned within her eyes, power caged by witch and woman. He continued to feed his magic through the focus of the charged plug and into his witch. The sweat that slicked their skin necessitating his hands to slide apart, one along her back, finally gripping her shoulder and the other down her leg until he was gripping it behind the knee which he propped on his own shoulder to open her wider to his thrusts. Each hot glide of his penis inside her taut sheath forcing gasping screams past her lips.

As the steady beat of Lucius’ thrusts and magic started to stutter they grasped each other’s hands and said their last lines together as their passion reached its crescendo.

“I offer you the use of my family magic.” The Malfoy family magic rose to Lucius’ call, pouring in from the standing stones, fanning her flames so they began sparking from her eyes.

“I offer you the use of my magic.” Hermione opened to his and his family’s magic fully and like when a window is opened in a house ablaze the wind of his magic rushed inward and Hermione’s fire rose up to meet it in a sudden and cataclysmic backdraft.

As their magics and elements twined together all of the building pressure in stones, in the fairies' frenetic movements, in the energy stored in the ritual balls, and in the cresting passion between them, exploded into that roar of metaphysical flame, as frightful and sentient as any fiend fire. It devoured them, it burned through them cell by cell, but instead of laying them to waste it reshaped them, melting them down in a crucible of magic and fate to be honed anew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many lovely stories were updated this weekend that I was motivated to finish the latest chapter. I’ve added a programming class to my plate so I have less time to write but I promise I’ll finish the story even though it’s taking me longer to update. Thank you for some truly awesome comments on the last chapter that made me squee and smile so much my cheeks hurt!  
> Xoxo, Gal


	11. Burned Away

Hermione’s nose twitched in response to an itch that was rudely pulling her up towards wakefulness. She clung to sleep and turned her face deeper into her pillow, rubbing it back and forth to try to dislodge the irritant. The faded scents of sandalwood and cedar filtered through her brain as she snuggled contentedly into the heat source beneath her, blanketed by the deep night and the warmth of their combined magic. 

These movements awakened Lucius, who watched his witch indulgently as she resisted waking. With the influx of knowledge she received from his family magic she would be unconscious for some time yet. He, himself, was feeling lighter than he had in ages. He lay upon the altar and closed his eyes, reaching out to the magic humming in the stones standing sentry around them. The tone seemed clearer, purer than it had prior to the ritual, possibly even to the state it had been before the wars and the interminable time between, though it had been so many years that it was difficult to tell. He also felt the link between them had strengthened though if he wanted a clearer picture he would need to meditate and center himself and he lacked the focus to do so now. He also lacked the ability to fall asleep naturally on a stone altar when he was not passing out from magical backlash. 

Sighing in resignation at the futility of sleeping any longer within the circle and hoping he could eek out a few more hours of sleep while the night lingered, Lucius vanished the plug and other magical implements back to his study and sat up carefully, adjusting the sleeping witch in his arms so he could hold her securely. Once he was standing he twisted on the spot and brought them both through the crushing vacuum of apparition to reappear in his bed chamber. He did not feel any of the characteristic drag he associated with bringing a non-family member in through the anti-apparition wards, the manor wanted her safe within its walls.

As he settled Hermione into his bed he saw something that put paid to any idea of crawling back into bed with her as he eased his arm out from underneath her. The faded mark that had stained his arm since he was a young man, was gone.

——-

Hermione woke while it was still dark to an empty bed and crackle of a fire in the hearth. Her eyes searched the room for Lucius, they were in his suite after all, when the rattle and clink of ice in a glass from the direction of the fireplace drew her from the bed and over to the sitting area. “Lucius?” Hermione queried as she slipped on a dressing gown and shuffled over to the source of the noise, “what are you doing up?”

Lucius reluctantly pulled his eyes from his contemplation of the flames dancing over the surface of his whisky and held out his right arm to her in invitation to perch on the arm of his chair. Hermione accepted the unspoken invitation and allowed her body to slump sleepily against his warm and sturdy frame as his free hand rested on her, idly rubbing his fingers against the silk covered skin of her hip. 

“I received the dark mark when I was 17.” Hermione jumped at Lucius’ words on a most unwelcome topic, the quiet lassitude she had been enjoying fleeing her entirely. Her body stiffened out of her slump but Lucius did not release his grip on her hip. “My father was so proud,” he sneered, “he was securing our proper place in the new world order. We would be like the raiders of old, taking what we desired and razing the rest to the ground.”

Lucius stared into his whiskey before he brought the glass to lips, draining the remainder in one long swallow. “By the time I realized the horror that came along with the mark the dye had been cast, my path chosen,” his lips twisted bitterly as he turned the crystal in his elegant fingers, “a branded beast subject to my master’s whim.” 

“And then along came young Potter and all my desperate buried desires were met, The Dark Lord had died and I was free. Not completely, I was still wore his brand, but I thought I could move forward without his yolk around my neck.”

Hermione cautiously buried her fingers beneath his fall of hair and applied grounding pressure to the base of his skull as he continued his tale. 

“The yoke returned with a vengeance and tightened into a noose as the marks darkened and burned as they had when they were first placed, calling us to join him in a graveyard with a boy my son’s age tied bleeding to a tombstone. To duel a child to prove his mastery to us? We had seen his weakness in falling to a babe and we had seen his strength in returning when no other had thought it possible. We were well and truly trapped, and what was worse, I was to take my father’s place in his inner circle, to have the honor of hosting him in my ancestral halls, that shambling corpse polluting our magic with the taint of the grave.”

Hermione hesitated before asking the question that had been dogging her thoughts for weeks, “do you still believe all of that pureblood supremacy rot?”

“No,” he said, setting down his tumbler with a click, “but gods did I believe it then.” 

She tried to pull away but he gripped her tighter, growling out, “you asked the question, you’ll hear the answer.” At her slight nod he loosened his grip and continued somewhat more calmly, “I am not an innocent man, I have done horrible things that don’t deserve your forgiveness, but as I sat nearly powerless in this house as he destroyed magicals and muggles alike, I knew he would not be our salvation. When I wasn’t suffering from the after effects of cruciatus or drink I delved into the family grimoire, immersing myself in the rituals and objects of power of my ancestors, searching for anything that I might do without my wand, anything that might deliver us from that madman. There was no hoarded knowledge that would save us, what good was our lineage when we would still die trapped like rats? 

“Then Greyback arrived dragging you three and my heart froze in my chest, our best hope of destroying The Dark Lord captured and at the mercy of my lunatic sister-in-law. I did what I could, I allowed Dobby to cross the wards…” Lucius stopped at Hermione’s sudden jerk.

“You did? I thought he was able to access the house because he used to belong to you?” Hermione queried, her understanding of just how close they’d all come to death chilling her anew.

Lucius sneered at her with a hint of the old arrogance, “you cannot imagine that I would allow a disgruntled former servant continued access to my home or my family.”

“No,” Hermione murmured, “I suppose not.” She laid her head against his and played idly with his hair as she asked, “what’s brought on all of this introspection? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it feels much the opposite,” Lucius flexed his left hand into a fist before relaxing it and turning it over palm facing up to expose pale unblemished flesh bathed in the glow of the fire where the dark mark had once been.

“Oh my god!” Hermione stroked his arm in fascination, fingers searching for any remnant of the cursed mark. Seeing none, she summoned her wand and performed several dark detection spells, all coming up negative. As suddenly as her joy had lit her delicate features it was snuffed out as she slowly turned her own wrist to view the tender skin of her arm that had been cursed by Bella’s blade. Hermione was speechless as she viewed the smooth flesh where that hated epitaph had been scrawled in her own blood. Her breaths started to get shorter and sharper as she tried to absorb the magnitude of the magic wrought by the ritual. She slid from the arm of the chair into his lap, twisted around, buried her face into Lucius’ chest and sobbed as so many emotions that she had repressed from the war and the relief of being free of Bella’s curse poured from her. 

Lucius’ arms wrapped around her firmly, he rested his damp cheek atop her head, and they clung to each other as the storm of their emotions broke over them both.


End file.
